The Daughter of Darkness - Redeemable
by Nic-n'-Nyx
Summary: The Titan War was bad enough. Bad enough that Bree doesn't mind doing the sideline work with her family while the world rests on the brink of chaos. Yet as time wears on, it seems clear that they don't have a choice. Someone has more ominous plans for them. But facing your past, your future, and standing for your beliefs all at once is quite hard with a traitor in your midst...
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: Guess who owns PJatO. And HoO. Go on. Take a guess.**

**No, it's not us, silly! We know we're awesome, but geez. Way to lay on the flattery. Rick Riordan owns the series.**

**_READ: _****This is the third installment of the Daughter of Darkness series. If you have not read the first two books, we ask that you go to our profile and read Rebels and Rejects first, respectively. Thanks.**

oOo

It was all but a riot.

In other words, under control. But that would only last as long as Octavian wanted it to.

Reyna was all too aware of the fact. It tasted like salt-coated pennies beneath her tongue. The streets of New Rome had been flooded with citizens and the no-longer-armed Twelfth Legion, marching between the mob of pedestrians with brisk pace and straight posture and worry on their faces. It was easy to pick out the soldiers; their eyebrows were down and their faces grim with determination, and the citizens' in panicked pouts. Save the veterans themselves – quite a bit – who looked just like the Legion save their age.

They swarmed through the cobblestone roads, calling that cursed name.

It felt like acid on her ears. Worse so was the same word from Octavian's throat.

"Come on! Have we searched the southern sector? Well, then go! Our First Praetor is depending on us!" he barked. Like he was in a place to give orders to more than his Cohort.

But a cold ball settled inside Reyna; she had a duty, and she had a city to save. She caught Dianna's sharp eye and gave a jerking nod towards the border. "Have we checked the Fields of Mars?"

"I don't think so," Dianna said, catching on quickly. She fell into step behind her Second Praetor. "And if we've sent a patrol, it's quite behemothic. It could use a few others."

"I was thinking just two," Reyna said sternly. "Signal your second and come with me."

Dianna wouldn't have ever dreamed of protesting. She turned and waved to Jeremiah. Upon his return indication, she hurried to catch up with Reyna.

There was silence as they walked the outskirts of New Rome.

The olive-and-myrrh fragrance of the city had been tainted with smoke. The cobblestones no longer gleamed and gave a crisp clacking sound with each step. Rather, the sharp tang of burning torch oil and the dull thuds were disheartening. She could feel her energy sapping with each step and every last breath.

She shook her head. No, no, not yet; she had lives and beyond them the world depending on her. This was the game she played. Be the leader.

She enjoyed it at times, of course. Now was not one of those times.

And if she must be honest, she was just as worried about the city as she was about Jason.

Once they had crossed the borders and tread well into the bleak, dusty, wildflower-smelling Fields of Mars, Dianna quit following behind and drew level with Reyna. She moved in the way Dianna usually did; formal but perky, in jerky movements, constantly shifting, like she had more energy than she knew what to do with. When they were out of earshot by the fivefold, she spoke.

"Are you okay?"

"I am fine," Reyna said. "As fine as the situation permits. What matters is that we deal with this the best we can."

"You've already sent out patrols for him, alerted Hylla, and sent messenger eagles scouting. And you've visited every temple. I even spoke to my father. I'd say we're handling it just fine."

"That is not the problem I meant, and you know it."

Dianna's mint-green eyes fell to the sandy ground. "…Yeah. Yeah. That ugly little idiot back there running his mouth off."

"Octavian is anything but an idiot," Reyna growled, though the last thing Dianna did was underestimate her enemies. "I can promise you that."

If Reyna was planning on discussing legal plans, though, or plans she could trust in front of the Senate Octavian informally dictated, she would have done so. And Dianna knew this well. "So what are we planning to do about it?"

Warmth flooded Reyna at that. The immediate _we,_ the blind agreement, the trusting oath. The fact that she still had a few clever and loyal soldiers assured her that she was doing her job as a Praetor. "I actually don't know yet, but I figured you could offer advice."

Dianna sent a wary glance over her shoulder. "My advice? Why?"

"All my plans involve you."

"Ah. I see," Dianna said grimly.

Reyna turned and motioned to New Rome. The chaos on the streets was obvious, even from where they stood. "You saw what Octavian did back there. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, and he's turned his gifts against me. He was commanding citizens and his First Cohort and your Third and even Dakota's Fifth. And he did it in that way of his. The way that makes people listen."

Dianna shrugged and jumped from foot to foot. "Did you expect something different? You know he wants power, and you've seen the amount he has during the Senate meetings."

Reyna groaned. "Octavian is _good _for the Senate. His motives might be self-centered, but the outcome is a great rhetoric, and a great rhetoric can convince a crowd of anything. He's what keeps spirit alive when times are down and holds us together in the hard nights between battles and makes the loyalties and closeness thrive among our ranks. In every speech he gives, he uses the Legion to give himself credibility, and therefore gives credibility to the Legion. But for the armies? Octavian with that much power wouldn't be food for us _or _for New Rome. And endangering New Rome is crossing the line. I can't have it. He almost had too much power as it was before Jason went missing."

Dianna's spare energy burst into use as she jumped eagerly, drawing a dagger faster than Reyna could blink. A wicked grin had crossed her face. "What do you have in mind, noble Brutus?"

Reyna sighed and waved the knife away. "Not that, Dianna. Not that. That is not good for Rome, either."

The blonde sighed, disappointed, and sheathed the knife. One pink-and-blue painted fingernail began to twirl her hair around her small digits. "Aw."

But she knew better than to protest.

Reyna shook her head. "No, it just wouldn't work. It would be a terrible crime on our part, anyway. Romans trust one another."

"Like he deserves any of our trust!" Dianna burst.

"Be quiet! He has done the same amount of good for this Legion as you have and I won't turn my back on service!"

Dianna nodded and shut her mouth quickly.

"The best intentions have yet to bless him, but I think it's time to fix that," Reyna sighed. "Look, Dianna; we can't let him become First Praetor in Jason's stead. And by what just went down in that city, that's exactly what he plans to do."

"So find Jason. You can send out some of our more… privately talented soldiers." Green eyes glinted eagerly. "You _should _send them out. They're dying to prove themselves."

"Absolutely not. We need them stationed at the Wolf House where they are," Reyna chided. "I was thinking about something else."

A dark flash lit Dianna's eyes. "Ah. …I see."

"Do you want to try?"

"I've wanted to be Praetor for years, Reyna. No offense to you or Jason, but I've always set my goals higher than reasonable."

A sad smile crossed Reyna's face, and she had the odd sensation once more that Dianna was her daughter. She'd always been like that – technically not that much younger than her and Jason but easy to see that way because she was short and so giddy. So eager. Jason and Reyna had never been a couple, but they had always seen themselves as Dianna's parents. It wasn't like the girl's real mom and dad had ever been around.

"I'll have to keep quiet about supporting your campaign," Reyna mused, "as I'm not supposed to show bias or approval. The Legion and the city will vote. But we must do all we can to drive this cause home and put you in the Praetor's chair beside me. Failure is not an option, understood?"

"Yep!" Dianna yelped, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands.

Reyna sighed. Yep, her daughter alright.

"Your chances against Octavian," she warned, "even with my covert help, are not great. Don't take heedless risks."

Though she wouldn't be Dianna if she didn't take those risks, the girl nodded seriously. "Right. Of course. …Does this mean you've already given up on Jason's return, then?"

The words struck home. Reyna flinched and stared at the ground.

Dianna's voice didn't soften, which wasn't very convincing of her sincerity. "He's not helpless, you know. Wherever he is I'm sure he's still alive."

"I haven't given up," Reyna said tiredly. "I just… I just have to face reality. In case he does not return in time, we must be sure that Octavian doesn't assume command."

"You're not alone. We all miss him."

Reyna sighed heavily. The weight of the day was pushing down on her like a ton of bricks. But there was one last thing to decide.

She looked Dianna up and down, at the wild but sincere green eyes and the curly blonde hair and the bright clothes and neon fingernails. At the grim expression on her face. At the way she still bounced on her toes. And last but definitely not least, on the black tattoo on her left forearm. Five bars, five years of service. And the black silhouette of a three-headed dog.

She let out a long breath. No, she couldn't tell the last of her plans to Dianna. It wasn't fair to the girl. She had a political race to run and needed that energetic mind of hers to focus. She could, if she wanted to. And she could do a good job. But she was up against Octavian and needed to give all the concentration possible.

Not to mention the news of Bree's banishment would just be painful and unfair.

"You leave," she said, "the searching to me. I'll find Jason and slip you what help I can. You just focus on winning that election."

A twinge of regret twisted in her stomach as Dianna took the news without question like the loyal soldier she was and saluted. A good friend, a willing veteran, and Reyna had just denied her information she'd have killed to get. "Yes, ma'am. For Rome."

Reyna's lips twitched glumly. "For Rome."

oOo

**Nyx: Guess what day it is.**

**Nic: No.**

**Nyx: It's Friday.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**The cover for Rejects shall be done this weekend. It will go up asap. It is not my best work, as I've had plenty of time but it's still been rushed, and I used different styles for many of its components, but it's pretty good. The cover for Redeemable will be MUCH simpler. Please do R and R, guys! Thanks!**


	2. Cheating

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan still owns PJatO and HoO. Not us.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Emoxkitten – Nyx: Call me conceited, but I love the enthusiasm. :p**

**Cookie Spasms – Nyx: Kolkolkol that's an awesome face-emoticon! And no, Bree and Dianna don't know each other. That's kinda why Reyna's hiding one from the other.**

oOo

"You there. Where is your test review?"

I pondered the answer to the question for a moment. Now, I knew the truth. But somehow I didn't think "A demon ate my homework" was going to fly. Mondays sucked plenty without having some know-it-all adult with a teenagers-are-wastes-of-oxygen attitude chew you out.

The substitute scowled at me. "It was due today. You have a test."

I shrugged and reached for my pencil. Then I remembered that the demon had eaten those, too.

She sighed heavily and handed me a sharpened Dixon. "Fine. You can take it up with your teacher tomorrow." A moment later, the thick packet of graphs and equations was condemned to my unceremoniously blank desk.

I sighed heavily and began my work. Two problems in, I needed an eraser, and the pencil provided by the sub proved to be useless. And the one in my pocket… Well…

It wasn't meant for erasing _pencil._

Class was torture. Of course, it was on most days that I had to sit through study hall instead of spending the extra hour in orchestra. I would much prefer to be at Jake's side with our violins raised and the orchestra playing along. We had one pulse, one beat, and thousands and thousands of songs to choose from.

But no. It was Monday, I had a math test, and there was no orchestra until tomorrow. And because of that not-so-friendly visitor last night, I now lacked school supplies.

It wasn't my fault. Whatever the thing had been, it'd raided Hunter's room while we were down at the local Mexican food hotspot. All the homework we'd been working on in there together? Gone. Poof. Belongings were scattered and her mattress was in tatters. Luckily, her most valuable possessions had been carefully hidden inside the wall in the back of her closet. We had lost nothing irreplaceable.

Our younger sister Brook insisted that the monster must've been on wings. It'd come looking for us for whatever reason and flown into the highest room with the biggest windows. When we weren't there, it'd bailed and gone off somewhere else. Because it didn't come back, she was also inclined to believe it'd come for merely a meal and nothing more.

But lately, the things that came for us were not just looking for food. They'd been sent by something much darker.

So now I sat with no usable eraser and the equation y=5x^2+42 staring me in the face.

I did my best on the test, honestly. I only let my eyes wander once. And it was entirely an accident – I happened to be glancing at the clock when Kayla turned a page in her packet. For a moment, up her perfect answers went, flashing desperately in the classroom's too-bright lights. Just calling to be seen. She should've given me a spoiler alert, honestly; it was more her fault than mine.

Yep. A demon ate my homework.

Fun.

oOo

School is boring.

"Today is awful," Natalie complained loudly from across the room. While she was right, I can't say I enjoyed hearing the whine in her tone and the statement made so loudly. Suck it up and move on, as awful as your Monday was. Because it could be worse.

It could always be worse. And worse it always got.

Luckily, though, it was study hall. Lunch was next. I needed to refuel desperately.

Technically we weren't allowed to sleep during study hall, but Mrs. Herron did not care. And I was tired. The problem with being what I am… well…

…I don't sleep well. And when I do, the nightmares rob unconsciousness of its use.

Kayla sighed and laid a hand on my back. "Are you okay? You look sick."

"Fine," I mumbled. "Just 'ired." My muscles were melting into the cool plastic of the desk.

"You sure? You can tell me," she urged. She knew something was wrong.

_You're too smart for your own good,_ I was tempted to say.

Rather, I almost burst, "I copied answer fifteen off your test."

"Oh, I know. That was the bonus question. Since it was something we hadn't been taught and you seemed to be struggling, I figured there was no harm."

I was shocked. Kayla, shatter the trusted code of the straight-A student? Unbelievable!

"Ahem," came a voice from the teacher's desk. "Do I need to call the office on you, young lady? Get up."

I jolted up, staring in shock at the sub before remembering. Right. My math room was also my study hall class. We had a sub today.

I don't like subs. They are unpredictable and strangers in a strange land. And strangers tend to be defensive. Which of course never works well for either of us. Plus, one of my substitutes a couple years ago had happened to be a psycho deity who wanted to, and I quote, 'massacre' my sisters and I.

The heavy weight of sleep weighed on my eyes again. I sighed and let my shoulders slump. "I'm falling asleep in class. I cheated on the test. I'm a horrible person."

"Aw, no you're not," Kayla said in that whisper of a voice.

Oh, heck no. One who cheated on a test and dozed off in class was not horrible. There are worse crimes.

"I'm… gonna go get some water," I said, deciding that it might keep me up. And if the sub didn't know about the rule not to let me out, it might work.

Luckily, the old woman was happy to let me go. "I'll perk you up," she smiled.

I retreated to the nearest bathroom and wet my hands, then splashed the water on my face. The cold shock was nothing compared to the methods Hunter used to wake me up in the mornings. Yet I decided that it would suffice and repeated the action.

Two moments later, Natalie appeared. She stopped one sink down to check her makeup and hair in the mirror.

Apparently, girls use the bathroom for this.

"Ugh. This is horrible," Natalie muttered, tossing her bangs first one way and then the next. "I need them cut. Can't hang them either way now."

I ignored her and wet my face again. Above us, the pipes in the bathroom were making annoying tinkling noises.

"Ich. No, definitely not that…" she mused.

I sighed heavily. "It looks fine, Natalie."

"Like you'd know. You never do anything with that long mess you got there," she sighed. Then, to my surprise, added, "You don't have to. You can get away with the humidity curling it or your bangs being a little off. It's too dark for people to really see. Black is like that; it goes with everything, like blonde, but it's so much easier to care for. But it's not as pretty. So it evens out, I guess." She shrugged and grabbed a brush from her bag. "Oh, and the water is making your eye liner run."

I scowled at my own reflection. Go figure. Rarely do I attempt makeup, and when I do it is merely a few lines on my eyes, and of course today would be the first day in ages that I tried it once again.

Natalie was staring at me by the time I'd finished wiping it. I stood still as one smooth hand reached out and patted the lock of hair hanging off my shoulder.

She sighed wistfully. "I might have to try black hair sometime. You have it so easy."

The statement was so ludicrous I could barely hold back a laugh.

She took my expression the wrong way and scowled. "Well. You _are _a Violin I. Violas work harder than any other section." More irritating noise from the pipes accented the chime in her voice.

"Please," I snorted, not sure if it was just orchestra banter or an honest insult. "Violas are just fat violins."

She looked ready to spit back another retort, but the sound from the pipes came again, this time loud enough to steal attention for real. We fell silent and stared at the dull grey ceiling.

The angry rumbling of the plumbing ceased.

"You'd think," she said, "that public restrooms would be nicer. But no. Perhaps this is the school's way of discouraging you from getting out of class; they make the bathrooms horrible."

It wasn't a bad thesis, for Natalie. But I felt a ball of ice sink in my gut and I knew that wasn't why the pipes were frustrated.

I swallowed thickly. My right hand twitched toward my pocket.

Natalie was giving me an odd stare. "Well. Come on. I deserve some credit for that one."

I didn't really have time to note the fact that at least she didn't lie to herself about everything. The pipes began their vengeful screaming again, and this time it was much, much closer.

I drew my weighty eraser from my pocket.

This room was too small. We had to get out. I nudged Natalie towards the door, but she was stuck in place, staring at the ceiling. The door was a whole room away.

Overhead, loud bangs could be heard, followed by the hot gush of released gas and water.

Natalie's eyes gained an all-too-familiar glazed look. "Maybe we should get out of here…"

"Yep," I agreed, shoving my shoulder into her so she was forced to stumble along. "Come on, kid. Out we go."

But I am not an optimist. There is reason for this.

Sure enough, not even a second later, the loudest crash of all came. Then the ceiling shattered. The sound was louder than gunfire. Great chunks of plaster came crashing down around us. A thick, blinding, choking dust slammed down over my vision. I cursed and yanked Natalie into a stall.

Outside, I heard something heavy drop onto the unforgiving floor. I didn't have to look to know it'd landed on its feet.

Natalie, who looked quite peeved, yanked my hands off her. "What are you _doing?!"_

Panic lit in my chest and I slapped a hand over her mouth. The thing outside made a rumbling growling noise.

I didn't dare speak, even as hard as it was not to snap that I didn't want to spend my Monday locked in a small hiding space with her and a used toilet, either. I just needed time – a little distance, a bigger room, Natalie's silence. All that took was a little time.

But as a wise friend once told me, you can't rely on time.

There was none. Outside the stall door, a great foot slammed down on the tiles so hard I heard them crack. The ground trembled. From beneath the half-walls, I could see wrinkly yellow skin, thin and long toes, and gleaming black claws…

My eraser grew heavier.

With an ear-splitting screech, the demon rammed into the door.

I don't know what Natalie saw or heard, but she screamed. The stall door was bent in and now sported a telltale, mocking little hole in the steel.

The monster's beady black eye glared at us through it. An angry squawk lit the air, and it moved back to charge again.

I wrapped an arm around Natalie and ran.

oOo

I don't run like a human does.

See, I have this nasty habit of invading another dimension when I'm upset, stressed, or when I use its help for times like this.

I didn't dare shadow travel far. Even going straight outside the bathroom was a bad move; yes, I had quite a bit of stamina, but my enemies knew this. They wouldn't send something that wouldn't last as long as I did. So wasting energy would be pointless.

We materialized behind it. There was a blind, wild mess and the horrible screams of tortured metal as the demon crashed into the set of stalls and thrashed. Through the plaster dust still brooding in the air, all I could see of it was its flailing claws.

I shoved Natalie towards the exit and raised my eraser. "Go!"

She just stood, glassy-eyed and stunned.

I scowled and held my eraser in her face. Of course, it wasn't exactly in eraser form anymore, and that would work to my advantage. Even humans were wise enough to run from the aurora it gave off.

She flinched and stumbled back. The demon, tired of us, screamed and whirled. Beady eyes met mine a moment before it lunged.

This was much more comfortable for me than a math test. Easier? A little bit. Certain aspects. I blame it on the odds. When faced with life and death, people tend to find their options not so touchy.

It leapt. It had a hulking shape and dangling legs, signifying wings. It would jump high and long even in this small space. Instinct saw it and noted it and then I was gone, rolling to the left across nasty school bathroom tile. I came to a jolting stop against a heavy slab of fallen ceiling.

The demon screamed as it crashed into the wall, shattering the glass mirrors and the heavy sinks making thick _clunking _noises as they broke on the floor. The angry roar of crushed bricks was the loudest.

I covered my head for as long as I dared, not wanting to still be cowering when the thing came at us again.

Light flooded my mind when I looked up. It burned so badly I flinched. The wall had been demolished; broken bricks and sad mortar remains were scattered across the wreckage like sprinkles on a donut. Live wires sparked from the edges of the massive hole the demon had made. From outside, the weak winter sun glared off the snow.

I leapt to my feet, brandishing my sword. Întuneric hummed idly in my hands. Tiredness had left me; I charged out into the snow without a second thought. Behind me, I heard Natalie screaming something about a rabid bat.

The creature had crashed head-first through the bricks and then collapsed against a nearby tree. I knew this place; around the corner from the track, next to where the wood trails started. At least no humans were going to be around here.

The demon growled and rose, shaking the bricks off like they weighed nothing. Massive shoulders rose and wide, thick, lustrous black wings expanded to all their gleaming glory in the sunlight. The lithe body of a cat crouched down and hissed.

But it wasn't just a cat. It was built like one and moved like one, but its head was of an eagle. Its forepaws had been replaced by raptor talons. And the whole thing was taller than me by at least several feet.

A gryphon.

The black hindquarters of a panther bunched up before the creature sprang, claws extended again.

I didn't hide this time. I shot beneath the extended talons and raked up with Întuneric, opening a slice in the feline's underside. A tortured squawk erupted from its beak.

Rather than landing, though, it turned and soared upwards.

Well, crap. If it made for a true hunting dive, I was dead. Unless I used magic.

Despite how utterly my magic had been turned against me not even two months ago, I knew now that it was safe. The plan to capture me and my unique skills and use us to bring the world to its knees had been officially retired.

Still. I moved for the cover of the trees, stalking around beneath the branches. Sunlight made their bare bark look like shockingly exposed bone. The white snow from beneath cast up an eerie, dazzling white glow on their undersides.

I tried not to think about what that meant for shadow form and watched the gryphon from between the branches.

I didn't expect it to come at me. I was hidden and safe beneath the trees.

But again, there are eternal reasons as to why I'm not an optimist…

It came from an angle behind me. In my mad sprint for the trees, it had vanished from my sight. Then I felt a shadow pass overhead, drowning the glittering snow, making my sword vibrate faster, and the horrible snap of tree branches.

I whirled too late. Shadows are fast, but only as fast as I can react. Magic and sword slammed into the beast as its claws dug into my right shoulder. I bit back a scream as we were both sent toppling into the open snow before the shattered wall. Pain raced through my blood like vile fire.

Luckily, though, I landed free of the gryphon. I leapt to my feet and lunged for its wings before it could take off again.

The thing screeched and swatted at me, but I was hardly in its realm now. It appeared as a searing red flame in a vast, three-dimensional sea of vast grey. The darker splotch of its own shadow stained the plains beneath it.

I dropped back into real time next to the trees again, and I kept moving. Bolting along the tree line, dodging the electric box the school had back here, careful to keep my weight even on the snow-

The demon took chase.

I turned and fired, slashed with Întuneric. It reared onto its cat legs and screamed. Then it fell, slamming its clawed feet into the snow where I'd just been standing.

With a wild growl, I shoved my sword through the white feathers of the eagle's throat.

The beast didn't even flinch. Rather, its claws flashed out in reflex.

It didn't hurt at first. I saw the sky wheel by and that lonely pencil the substitute had loaned me flash against the clouds. I saw my hands leave Întuneric lodged in the demon's throat. My own blood had started to trickle down my hip, a strange warm and creepy feeling.

I crashed into the brick corner between the electric box and the broken wall. Suddenly pain became real again. It racked through me as I landed in the snow, gasping desperately.

Not a moment later, the gryphon was bearing down on me again.

But I had fallen into the building's shadow.

I yelled, and a writhing mass of darkness even blacker than the creature's pelt slammed into its side, sending it sprawling back into the snow. The effort of magic seared in my head, as if the pain it was already in wasn't enough.

I'd hit it, crashing into the wall like that. I could feel the throb pulsating on the back of my skull. This fight wouldn't last much longer.

I had no guarantees, but it was now or never. I yelled again in Latin and the shadows shot out, slicing through the gryphon's fur. Golden dust began to ooze from the cuts.

I pushed harder. It vanished from my sight and the screams cut off abruptly.

It wouldn't stay dead. But the fight had left us both. My head dropped into the snow and heavy eyelids slid closed. My lungs ached for air, and I could feel burning scratches on my torso where the thing had swatted at me. Blood had started to stain the snow.

Snow. Snow was cold…

Before my thoughts could slip away, I felt something poke my cheek.

"Oh, my gosh!" Natalie yelped. "Are you okay?!"

I almost snapped at her before realizing that she probably couldn't see most of the damage. Human eyes are like that.

But the snow was starting to feel warm and comfortable. Some voice in the back of mind reminded me that that was bad, and that she was my only help.

"My… bag," I gasped, still wheezing. "Get… my bag…"

I couldn't tell if she listened or not. I couldn't sense her beside me anymore. Somewhere, far in the distance, I heard alarms going off.

Then there was the annoying sound of a zipper. Pages were crinkled and binders smacked. "What are you looking for?"

The words took too long to process. "…N… Water."

There was the pop of a plastic lid, and then a bottle pressed into my hands. The pain in my shoulder and side flared as I moved it, but I wasn't shy. I drank as fast as I could while lying curled up on my side.

With each swallow, things became clearer in focus. The blinding light of the snow, the bitter cold, the laughing sun, Natalie's rather passive expression.

I held the bottle of nectar close and sat up groggily. Dull aches still lit here and there, but it'd be fine. The pain in my head had even begun to fade. I took two more gulps and didn't dare push it further.

"What flavoring is in that?" Natalie asked, noting the golden color.

"Uh… Peach?" I guessed, clipping it to my belt loop. Now that I didn't have to worry about being sent to the office for it, it was best to keep it close. My eyes darted around nervously.

Behind us, the school's alarm was blaring angrily. I could see the flash of the strobe lights leaking through the wreckage. Whatever pipe that demon broke, it wasn't a good one.

My gaze landed on the golden glitter behind Natalie in the snow. It had begun to move, to shift and crawl like dozens of little bugs.

I grunted and got to my feet. Natalie followed me over to the mess of moving dust. "Are you sure you're okay?"

The sincerity in her tone surprised me, but I paid it no heed. Rather, I scooped up as much snow and dust as I could and marched back into the building.

Sure enough, her too-hyper tone came back for the next statement. "That was a _huge _bat."

I had no comment. Four times, I grabbed dust and flushed it down toilets, each time using a different stall. Hopefully that'd work for now. I shouldered my bag and made sure Întuneric was in my pocket, in eraser form once more, in the place it so loyally returned to fight after fight.

"You might want to get out of here," I advised Natalie as I stepped through the hole in the wall. _I should leave a note,_ I thought, _in case my sisters come looking for me…_

Natalie just shrugged, giving me another too-serious look. There was so much plaster dust on both of us, she would be glad there were no mirrors left. Her hair was a mess.

I scowled and patted my jacket, my bag, my pocket. It was gone… Then I sighed heavily as I caught sight of the pencil's metal eraser attachment lying in the snow, snapped clean in half by an eagle's beak.

A demon ate my pencil. What luck. Oh, wait, I'm sorry; luck doesn't exist.

But irony does. I knew I shouldn't have cheated on that math test.

oOo

**Nyx: Yeah. Chapter One. Woot! I'm liking where this is heading. (And I'm actually ahead of schedule with the writing! Yay!) The summary WILL change, guys. I hate what it is right now. Yet I was tired when I wrote it and spent a whole hour just to get that piece of crap up.**

**Nic: What is this?**

**Nyx: Nothing.**

**Nic: It looks like an empty Altoids can. **_**Freshly **_**empty.**

**Nyx: Heh heh heh…**

**.**

**IF YOU HAVE READ HOH, please read the following. If you haven't, don't. *HOH SPOILER ALERT*.**

**Nyx: I know I said I wasn't posting spoilers. But there are a few things I must address just in case someone takes offense. First, know that I hate HoO. With a passion. Jason is a Mary Sue, Riordan has forgotten the "actions speak louder than words" rule (not once did Annabeth ever think of Percy as a seaweed brain in the moment, and it killed the whole thing. As did Jason's random decision to abandon Camp Jupiter that had no evidence or support behind it at all. Go reread TLH – nothing about CHB was natural to him!), and last but definitely not least, he has used HoO to slander the PJatO series. Characters go back and defy their hard-learned morals. Like Nico, for example, going back for Bianca. And then there are secrets that Rick Riordan revealed that just screw with PJatO's plot and themes in general. I seriously have nothing against homosexuals, AT ALL, (in fact I'd rather they had equal rights throughout this whole country) but I hate the fact that this Perico crush goes back all the way to Titan's Curse. I like Perico, but start it AFTER the deal with Bianca, you hear? AFTER. Don't screw with what was a perfect story. I LOVED Nico and Bianca! It's so sadistic of me, but I loved watching Nico break and then fighting with him tooth and nail through the aftermath. Perico works just great springing from the friendship Percy and Nico had at the end of TLO, anyway. Now all the old themes for Nico have been screwed over by Percy and all his new themes will ONLY include gays and their struggles. Again, I have no problem with that theme aside from the fact that now it's his ONLY theme. It's dominating him. It's making him two-dimensional. The only other thing he has going for him is his momentary panic over Hazel now and then. And y'all know how I feel about THAT. So the fact that Nico is bi in this fanfiction and that he has no crush on Percy is not a statement against homosexuals but rather purely for the benefit of the story. So please, take no offense.**

**I did rather like Mr. Riordan's design for Cupid, though…**


	3. Teen Spirit

_**PLEASE READ!: **_**I forgot to mention this, but Redeemable is the THIRD book in a five-book series, The Daughter of Darkness. So if you're meeting Nic and Nyx for the first time, chances are you've missed out on a lot. Head to our profile and see Rebels and Rejects respectively. It is STRONGLY RECOMMENDED that you don't just jump in and skip those books. Thanks.**

**DISCLAIMER: Guess who's busy writing the final HoO book right now.**

**Rick Riordan.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Emoxkitten – Nyx: Yay thnx. **

**Cookie Spasms – Nic and Nyx **_**(in scary unison)**_**: Become one with Mother Russia, da? Kolkolkol…**

oOo

There are about eleven channels that exist to my grandmother.

Nine play movies all day and all night. One is the more reliable news center in our snowy little city of Oswego. The third contains an interesting vampire series and a couple comedies. The fourth she only watched once a year, when the special about mermaids came on. Apparently, some lucky scientist had found a carcass and started a ruckus about government conspiracies and the closest living relative to the _Homo sapien._

She does not watch that one anymore. Don't know why she had to begin with – she knew that mermaids were a whispered taboo legend even among demigods. They were the officially undiscovered breed of sirens. They sang sailors and their ships into rocks and then feasted until they could repair their nest with the remaining bones.

In the mornings, when the weather is unclear, she watches the news. She turns it on loudly so she can hear it back in her room where she writes during the day when we are at school. Unless the sky still had some crazy plans for us, she usually would change back to her vampire drama's reruns once we were home.

The days are nothing but lazy and calm for her. Oh, she could deal with stress. She knew how to handle drama just fine. But she much preferred this peaceful, drifting bliss of a slow morning and slower afternoon.

Yeah. She was willing to give that up when she adopted us. She knew the risks.

I circled the house twice in shadow form before heading in. No monsters were too close, but I was not keen on taking chances. It had been hard enough to leave my human grandparents at home that morning – after the thing that'd raided Hunter's room, we were on guard.

The kitchen blurred into existence around me. The shadows twisted and hissed and curled away, letting the air from the heaters blast at my skin and the harsh yellow lights of muddy circuits welcome me home.

The old house groaned. The sound made me quite sad; I could no longer read the sounds my friend made, as I once had. I didn't know if it was a greeting or a curse.

She sat on the couch, watching the news quietly, meaning something was wrong. To go with her lifestyle she had a fitting set of brown, powerful brown eyes that blazed with meaning. The passion that went into her writing and her television shows. The hard experience she pulled out of somewhere to help us when things went wrong. To fit her position in the household, she had hair of cinnamon and sugar that fell to her chin and was shorter than me by half an inch.

She turned to glare at me as I strode across the kitchen for the fridge. "Do you have anything to do with this?"

"Do with what?" I asked, grabbing a plastic bin of leftover spaghetti. My head was still angry with me for that argument with the wall.

She sighed and turned the news up.

_"…Told about thirty seconds ago,"_ a male reporter was saying. _"Cameras are on their way, so we have no footage yet, but it has been confirmed that firefighters are on the scene. There is also an unconfirmed rumor of one child still unaccounted for."_

"…Oh, that…"

She stood and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the threshold. "They interrupted the report on the movie that came out of Friday – breaking records, apparently – to report there has been an explosion at the middle school. It caused a gas leak and a fire."

I faked a nervous laugh as I punched numbers in the microwave. "So that's what they think it was?"

A hand landed on my shoulder. "Is that missing child you?"

"No. I think it's Natalie. I talked to Mrs. May and convinced her I should walk home."

A ragged sigh escaped her. Business was finished, work was done; she was allowed to be worried now. "Are you alright? What happened?"

A warning rose in my throat, a feeling in my chest that I shouldn't speak. Fear. "I'll explain later. Don't want to tell it more than once. Besides, repeating names…"

She sighed and tensed as her fingers ran across the still-damp blood on my sleeve. "But are you okay?"

"Fine. I took nectar for the worst of it."

She tugged lightly on my sleeve. "You sure you don't need anything?"

"Just food. I'm starving." Mentioning the headache didn't seem worth what her reaction would be.

She let out a long breath. "Alright. Eat and then go change. You're a mess. And don't just throw your clothes down in a pile again! The floor's dirty and spiders like to live in things like that! Not to mention the wrinkles it makes."

Ah. _There _was my grandmother.

I downed the pasta quickly and headed upstairs to my room. Sylvester, the giant black cat with a ridiculous replica of an obsidian lion's mane, came sprinting out of Brook's quarters at the sound of my boots on the stairs. A lofty curiosity lit in those yellow-green eyes –_ oh, so the creepy one is back early? Not much use, the creepy one. But she's good for fixing my food. I wonder if she'll serve me at my demands in this new hour._

I scowled at him. Large, Sylvester was, but he was lean. All thin legs and lanky, lithe body and a glossy black coat. It reminded me of the gryphon.

He yowled angrily outside my door when I closed it on him.

Fresh clothes felt good. It also helped that I now had reason to ditch my shredded t-shirt – it had been a very poor choice for late December alongside Lake Ontario. The crisp scent of fresh snow blew into my room, meddled with the lingering tang of city-stench, car exhaust and the rotting wood of the fallen tree next door. And sawdust from across the street. Apparently, the freak 'accident' that'd caused the abandoned bar to collapse had become the city's cue to build it anew. I was content to breath in the smell of that sawdust, for I knew that later would come the penetrating fumes of paint that made me sick and then even later the reek of alcohol and the drunken yells of people making mistakes in an effort to forget, take a wild guess, _other _mistakes.

The cuts in my side had begun leaking blood again. They stung slightly, but were shallow enough that I didn't need help. I bandaged the small wound myself and then moved to my shoulder.

The skin there was discolored by a bruise. An old, healed scar was deeply embedded in it. Yet the mark of the gryphon had completely vanished.

Satisfied, I sighed and plopped down on the bed. The pillow was soft and seductive. Pillows are little devils. It made me want to sleep. It made me want to lay here for hours while the sounds of the dying echoed in my ears and kept me wide awake. Worse, it wanted to make me dream.

I did not want more nightmares.

So I refused to close my eyes and laid there, letting my mind drift. I found myself wondering if it was a coincidence that the letters in "mother in law" could be rearranged to form the words "woman Hitler." Something dyslexia had showed me.

That had been a funny moment in social studies class…

Eventually, though, my gaze landed on a proud black case leaning on the foot of my bed above the heater. Shaped like an elongated tear drop, I could see straight through the hard shell to the instrument inside. I could imagine my fingers on the strikes and feel the weight of the bow in my right hand. I could hear the song we'd play together. _I should get it out…_

Before I gathered the will to move, though, the door was shoved open.

Hunter is made of many things. Much of it is stone. Compressed, polished, hard-worked stone. Immovable diamond. She could be a statue or a foundation. She had been shaped into one heck of a weapon. She is a sharp tongue and a dark sense of humor that must be constantly entertained and a calm, contained energy. She had once worn baggy black hoodies and jeans when we had thought we were human, but the year that we'd spent with her father had ingrained in her the need to look presentable twenty-four/seven. Thus she wore clean, hole-free jeans and shiny combat boots and a semi-formal black jacket. Her caramel hair was brushed all the way down to her waist and her bangs perfectly straight at her eyebrows. Not a speck of acne could be seen on her pale skin. Today, she had also decided to adorn her eyes with a few lines of smoky brown.

Liquid golden eyes glared at me, a tense hand holding the door open.

Sylvester slipped between her legs and sat angrily on my torso. A great, thundering scream came from his throat.

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "You'd better feed that thing, Bree. I'm afraid he's going to wake the dead if you don't."

But of all the things Hunter is, she is mostly Hunter. My cousin. My mother, my best friend. My sister.

I ignored the private jab at my abilities and shoved the angry cat away. He hissed and bit my hand, despite the wise look he tended to have now and then. He knew I would give him food anyway.

She sat next to me as I pulled myself to my knees and grabbed Sylvester. He made a disgruntled "_Mrph!"_ as she did.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," I answered. "Sorry I didn't drop by the high school first. I was starving."

"The note you wrote in the snow sufficed. Jade's little sister texted that some freak accident happened in a girl's bathroom at the middle school. I figured it was either an alien attack or you and time-warped over there." She scratched along Sylvester's spine, which made him squirm.

I raised an eyebrow. "An alien?"

She huffed and dumped the cat. "Yes! I keep _telling _you guys they're coming one day, but _nooooo,_ you're satisfied by the beasts that keep crawling out of Hell!"

"I think 'satisfied' is the wrong word. _Overwhelmed _might be better," came a soft voice.

We turned. In the doorway now stood Brook.

Brook looks anything but her age. Some things make her look younger, such as the fact that she is short. And she has high eyebrows that dispel the possibility of her being over ten. Yet there was a seriousness in her eyes and a controlled, practiced way about how she stood and moved. She held the fluency of a pacing cat and the precision in each step of a practiced archer. I guess, perhaps, if you averaged all these things, you might be able to guess her age. If you were a stranger. To me, she would always be so much younger than what she was.

Twelve. That was her real age, now. She'd been ten when all this mess started. And ten she would stay in my mind. Eleven, at most.

She gave me a tentative smile and a flutter of her fingers. "Hey. You alright?"

"Fine," I answered. Brook had this habit of over-worrying now and then, though she did not show it. Yet she also knew me well enough as to not require the smile she knew wouldn't feel natural at all to me.

The headache wasn't so bad, sitting next to them.

Their presence always did this to me. They were my sisters; we were a part of one another in a way words cannot explain. Rather, it revealed itself in the way we knew what the others were thinking and in how we moved when around each other and the things whispered under the cover of night where none but our ears could hear. It was there when we fought as a strong cord, a band, looping us all together so strongly we didn't even have to look at where the others stood or ask where we were to go. We just simply knew.

It was not a relationship I held with many people. Ethan had come very close. We'd felt that unity in a fight and he'd found as much comfort in us as we had him and-

_No,_ I told myself. _That's in the past now. Ethan's been dead for months now._

His life of nearly eighteen years seemed shorter than those few months…

But, as most pains were, the thought was more bearable next to my sisters. I stood abruptly and waved them towards my door. "Come on. I should explain in full to everyone – Granny and Grandpa, too. Repeating names is a horrible idea. And we should probably get Nico to listen in via Iris-Message, too – he's bound to know something useful."

Hunter snorted as she stood from the bed. "Nico. I'm sure he will."

"Dude. He's probably spoken to dozens of people who've been killed by what showed up today. And it's not like it's… The winged monster." The mention of the unnamed drakon and included creepy passenger silenced even the starving cat. "And if it's related to what Camp is reporting…"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean _that._ It's just that suddenly Percy goes missing, and for whatever reason, Nico suddenly knows everything – now he knows why Olympus was closed, what to do about it, where to go-"

"We already knew most of that."

"Yeah, but now he's_ sure_ of himself. He's been stressed over the Underworld being closed, and our top demigod going missing has been the last straw, and now the conclusions he's so solid on probably are half-based on hysteria. Not that Nico ever _looks _hysteric, but with Hades locked up? When he didn't come back after we kicked Orpheus's butt?" She shook her head. "The kid's rushing to any answer he can find, and that's not a good thing to follow."

I had no words. Nico… Base something off an emotion. Even the most simple of emotions – the love between a family, much the same as I'd felt a moment ago between us – had been nothing but bad experiences for him.

He wasn't the kind to make hasty conclusions like that anymore.

She read my answer in my eyes and shrugged. "Well. It also suggests that he knows something we don't. Did you actually see the IM that Annabeth sent him?"

I hesitated at that. "…No."

"Then it could've held anything more that he's refusing to tell us. Don't act like he hasn't done it before."

At that, she left the room and strode down the stairs, twirling her pencil in her hands.

I let Brook follow her, then Moon, before making my own way down the stairs. I couldn't help the triumphant little flutter that had begun in my stomach.

Because she was right. Nico had been known to hide information from them before.

But not me.

oOo

Shay has a sense of humor.

No sooner had we finished discussing matters with my grandparents and brother did a knock come on the window. My concerns for him vanished.

We drew our weapons and formed a circle and the world fell eerily silent.

There were a few tense moments when the birds outside held their breath and the cat resided somehow in the small space between the couch and the floor and the cars did not drive past and when Granny did not berate Hunter and Brook about heading back to school instead of skipping for a fight already won. When the oceans were still and the wind itself did not breathe.

Then Anonymous was lowered. The giant scythe was well-controlled in Hunter's hands, but nonetheless, we stayed clear of it as she walked towards the kitchen with a smile on her face.

I sheathed Întuneric – that is, it turned into an eraser again – and leapt to catch up. Brook had already sped ahead of us.

She was pointing and giggling.

Moon's ears flicked. "Is note?"

"Is note," Hunter agreed, examining the window. Only the top half revealed sunlight; the bottom half was drowned in snow. It had melted quite a bit since the biggest snowstorms but we still needed sculpted stairs to get out of the house in the mornings. Come to think of it, we were supposed to get another wave of storms soon, if Granny's news station had been correct…

From the top half of a window, sunlight bursting through it to highlight the words written in Greek, was a sticky-note.

_Don't worry; I'm alive and well. Meet me 1400 hours river mouth, East Side_

_No costumes this time :p_

_-Shay_

I was so relieved I actually laughed. Since things started going haywire again – I mean _really _haywire, like _we're-already-too-late_ haywire – about three days ago, Nico had insisted we contact Shay again. Percy going missing and the fact that Olympus was slowly beginning to get involved in things again were plenty reason to worry about the moves our enemy The Patron was making. And we had been warned that Shay was a part of said moves.

But she was safe. As the note proved. See, Shay was the only one besides us and Nico who knew about the scandal that'd gone down over Halloween. She'd left a note much like this on the kitchen window of an old funeral home in LA where we'd been staying, asking to meet us at a high school's Halloween party/fundraiser. She'd intended to introduce herself and her importance there. Unfortunately, the demon Manticore (aka Dr. Thorn, Nico's ex-vice-principal) had interfered and met us there. Orpheus had sent two Venti after Shay.

But those Venti, Orpheus, and Dr. Thorn were dead now. And Hunter had officially said 'Screw luck!' and taken precautions to make sure they stayed that way.

So it was Shay, one hundred percent. And she was safe. And she'd stay that way, seeing as we were to meet by a river. Nobody would sneak up on Shay while there was water nearby.

Hunter smiled at the message. For once, she had no words; she was merely happy.

I felt a pang of unjust envy. Shay and Hunter had something in common that Brook and I couldn't offer. Shay…

Shay was _hope._

None of us were entirely human, no, but Shay and Hunter had a private burden. They were different. And they had it hard. Shay's very existence was enough to cheer Hunter up. Being the children of…

Well. We'll get there soon enough.

oOo

"You should've come to us the moment you got here!" Hunter pouted, sitting back on the concrete and crossing her arms. "Do you _know _how many movie nights you missed?!"

"Uh, one?" Shay offered.

"No! You missed as many as I _tell _you you did!" Hunter retorted.

Brook raised a tentative hand. "Um, technically, she couldn't have missed more than five. Since she's only been here five days."

Hunter's eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning my logic?"

"No! For no questions!" Moon barked, lowering herself to the ground. Brook smacked her over the head.

Golden eyes narrowed further. "Good."

"Guys," I hissed. "Be quiet. They'll hear us."

They sobered quickly. We gathered tightly around the fence once more and peered through the cracks in the wood. Time had come down softly on the planks; hardly a rotting spot showed for all the wet snow still lumped around here. Nor had the paint begun to fade. The house beyond was quite similar; it had stood against thousands of Hunter's movie nights and not even blinked. Polished walls and a gleaming roof that didn't even have frost coating them.

In the small, snowy yard, two children were playing soccer.

The excited yells and boisterous, angry, sportsmanlike shouts felt like heavy weights in my chest. Like a barbell tied around my neck. My headache was starting to come back real quick.

They were the sounds of innocence.

"You haven't told them yet," I stated.

Shay grimaced and shook her head, letting her dark braid flop back and forth over her camouflage jacket. "No. How could I? Once you know… Once you know, they come for you."

"They're thirteen," Hunter sighed. "Nico was ten when he was discovered."

"He's from the Big Three-"

"And these girls are from _Titans,_ Shay. Our fathers protected us all our lives. For all we know, most Titan half-bloods are discovered by the age of six."

Shay sighed and hung her head. "I… I know, I know. I just needed a few days to adjust to the idea."

"This isn't like you," Hunter muttered. "What's always been your rule? Survive. Because as long as you're alive, there's hope. So go talk to them."

"But I've always _known._ I've never met oblivious ones before. It's… different."

Let's pause the scene there. I've tormented you guys long enough, yes? You'd care for an explanation now? It's a long one, and it ain't happy.

Have you ever heard of the Greek or Roman mythologies?

I stared at Shay. She still had her head low, hiding the golden chain around her throat from glinting in the sunlight. The little wave-designed links matched the ones on her bracers. Shay was indeed Shay, however; somewhere, I knew she and Hunter were both right.

She'd talk to them soon. And it'd be for the sake of survival.

"So!" Hunter said, also sensing a compromise. A mischievous glint entered her eye. "Who's the lucky parent?"

Shay shrugged. "You won't believe me, but I'm suspecting Atlas."

I did a double take. "…Atlas? The dude trapped under the sky?" Atlas had indeed insulted me many a time during my stay on Mount Othrys; now that I looked at the girls again, I could kind of see… In the way their cheeks curved…

"Twin daughters of Atlas," Brook breathed. "But if he's under the sky, then how…?"

Shay chuckled darkly. "A desperate man will find desperate tricks, no doubt about it. Are you honestly surprised that he's been finding reprieves here and there?"

"No," Hunter said, all humor gone from her voice. "Not at all."

Moon's ears flicked and she repositioned herself, nose twitching. "Be there more? Oswego and elses?"

Shay's gaze fell once more. "…No. You guys wouldn't believe the ground I've covered in the past month and a half. It took me forever to find a trail. I found three; one was false, for the second I was too late, and this is the third. Don't know what it is about this town, but it seems Atlas and Olympus had similar things in mind when dumping demigods here."

"Oh, sure," Hunter agreed. Her tone became deep and fast. "'Spare kids you don't have room for? No problem! We got tons of isolated little towns in upstate New York! Just leave them at the doorstep with your shipping payment. Cash only, please, no checks.' Yep. Oswego, number one pick."

"It seems that way," Shay agreed. "Speaking of why we're here, what was the reason you were so frantic to find me? Something about a warning from Camp?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Percy's gone. Some strange things have been happening. IMs are back up, and the spirits are visiting Nico again, though not nearly as often as they used to. And there's still blocks preventing much useful communication. It seems The Patron is up to something again."

"Fun," she muttered.

"We had a…" I lowered my voice. "A _winged cat_ come through Hunter's window last night. It cornered me in school earlier today. It's the only clue we have so far. According to Nico, they're wild creatures loyal to no one that live in the Land Beyond the Gods."

"Alaska," Brook provided.

I nodded. "Yeah, there."

"…I'm sorry," Shay said. "A winged cat?"

"A gryphon," I whispered, glancing around nervously. Luckily, the name summoned nothing. "And it came _alone._ They're supposed to travel in flocks."

"Though once again, that is according to Nico," Hunter reminded us.

The way she said his name made me shuffle nervously. "…Yeah. Right. Well. We were worried that The Patron is making some sort of play involving you. Wanted to make sure you weren't dead. You know, we do have a guest room – since you're in town anyway, why not stay there with us for a while?"

She frowned at me – unless I hold the best knowledge of an event or am trying to change the subject, I don't talk much, and even she knew this after the few days we'd actually spent together. But she didn't protest. "If that's alright with your grandparents, then I'd be happy to drop by. But not for long. I never sleep in the same place twice in a row."

"Not a bad law, that," Hunter agreed. A huge grin split her face. "So that means tonight's movie night, then?"

"Movie night," Shay agreed.

I smiled and looked down. Movie night. I had many fond memories of that, and many bittersweet. But tonight would be marked by something different for me.

"Hey, guys…"

Hunter's face fell at my tone. "What?"

"…Nico's leaving today, and I was kind of planning on sending him off. I might be back late."

"Be back late?" Brook asked. "You don't usually go at all on Mondays."

"Yeah, well…"

Hunter sighed. "Just be careful, alright? There are still things bigger and darker than you are that use your magic."

I scowled, all too aware. "Yeah. I get it. See you guys later." I stood and stretched, then ran along the fence for the nearest shadow of a looming house.

"Bye, Daughter of Darkness!" Moon barked.

The title, that'd been given to me by Kronos, was like ice up my spine. I ignored it as I charged into the shadows.

oOo

**Nyx: OMGSH ITS FINISHED! FINISHED! *begins flipping hands in and out before shoulders* FINISHED! THIS IS 'FINISHED' IN SIGN LANGUAGE, GUYS!**

**Nic: We're one prologue and two chapters in.**

**Nyx: Not Redeemable! The cover for Rejects! It's done and its AWESOME! SO HAPPEH!**

**Nic: Ah. That thing.**

**Nyx: I don't know how much y'all can expand that little cover, and therefore how much you'll actually see, but please do take a peek at it. I'm very proud. First time drawing cliffs and applying the aerial perspective technique, which is a change in color scheme between the foreground and background-**

**Nic: Turn down the nerd dial, Nyx.**

**Nyx: Sorry. Sorry. Anyway. Redeemable – I'm liking what I have so far. Please review, guys! And as always, thanks for doing so. And I am already working on Redeemable's cover. It'll be much simpler than Rejects so it won't take near as long. Thanks for the patience!**

**Nic: Patience. Yeah…**

**.**

**.**

**The five parameters for 'FINISH' in American Sign Language are: Hand shape – 5; location – Sign Space; palm orientation – in and out; movement – flick wrists so hands make large twists; and Non-Manual Signal – either a relieved expression or none at all. Yes, you read correctly. In ASL, your face is part of the word. It is the difference between "coffee" and "make out", actually. Said need for facial expressions should spell my doom while signing, but somehow I manage okay.**


	4. Reyna

_**ONCE AGAIN,**_** if you haven't read Rebels and Rejects respectively, please go do that before reading Redeemable. This is a SERIES, and it makes little to no sense without those two books at its head.**

**DISCLAIMER: Guess who's gonna be living Stephen King's **_**Misery **_**if he doesn't turn HoO around.**

**Rick Riordan.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Lara of Hecate – Nyx: We don't like stereotypes or categories. They suit best as fictional, abstract concepts or characters. Fun to poke at those hypothetical creations. Not fun to use them as labels on people. Nobody fits in any category, and it's not right to try, much less to judge someone by one.**

**Emoxkitten – Nyx: Thanks. Took freaking forever. The cover, I mean. The chapter had to be revised a lot but didn't take long.**

**Koryandrs – Nyx: Yeah. I have problems with a lot of coloring. Nico's pants weren't supposed to look leather, but kol I guess it's not the worst look for him… Never taken any classes or met someone who actually does this stuff. It's all my own improvisation, and what Nic and I have gleaned from speed-paints online. My pride and joy is actually the drakon and the background – I like to think I didn't do so bad there. Yay for the color replacement tool making values so much easier to work with. And thanks; we do work very hard on the writing.**

oOo

Nico was good for clearing my mind.

It was not fair that the two of us existed as we did, he forever with a dotted outline and a ghost standing behind him and me… alive. But it was what it was and he claimed he didn't regret meeting me.

Thing is, though, Nico had also learned long ago that refusing to regret something is part of getting over hard things in your past.

The shadows of LA were familiar to me by now. I could recognize the angry slashes of blackness marking its skyscrapers from whole time zones away. There was hardly even any time to watching as it achingly came closer; I ran fast enough that I didn't have to worry. Fast enough that I could stop and listen to the world.

As the sun was hitting or past its peak in most of the nations, the shadows were growing longer, slowly awakening from a lazy slumber. Slowly crawling forward. Slowly preparing for the coming of night.

LA's general lines of skyscrapers was peppered and torn and shredded by its own light, so that it looked more like its own bright mushroom. But the shadows are what I focused on.

The streets were memorized. I zipped past Universal Studios, ran through the old post office, and came skidding to a halt in a very familiar living room.

The old funeral home had not changed much; it was still stoic and cold and very purposeful. As if it still held ranks of dead in its basement. As if it knew it held a magical stronghold beneath the ground that was our last hope. As if it would sooner die for those causes than make a sound or show any sort of emotion, so religiously devoted it was. It didn't even greet me as I arrived; my own thrill of familiarity would have to suffice.

Suffice it did.

Over the near two months since the battle with Orpheus, Nico had decided that it was time to put the place back in business. As if he had time for that, between his usual work and investigations on the closing of the Underworld. But it was a principle for him. The dead were his priority, and he would never let that go. So formaldehyde and a strange, more stoic scent that brought both chemicals and crackers to mind had rule of the place. As far as I knew, he hadn't actually opened up shop yet, but he seemed ready.

The dark carpet and walls held nothing, save the furniture. The TV was black through magic and by technology. The one disk sitting beside the DVD player had been memorized by us time and time again, even though Nico and I were the only ones who fully understood the evidence captured on it. Next to it was empty counter where a skull named Phil had once sat, soaking in his ego and watching over the place, now and then stopping to talk to Nico and drive him crazy.

It was almost normal.

Thing was, though, the moment I arrived, the familiarity was shattered by yelling.

"-Don't give a damn!" Nico barked from the kitchen, cold fury blistering on his tongue. "You have no business here whatsoever!"

I dimly wondered if he had dug up Phil and started talking to him again. Then a girl's voice answered him.

"I have," she growled, "every manner of business here. Especially if there's more than one uncharted demigod like I thought. Now, if you tell me where she is, this doesn't have to get ugly."

Silence fell over them, as bleak and cold and revealing as the plains of the arctic tundra. It made my hair stand on end.

Silence falls often around Nico, be it by awkwardness or purpose or something else. This silence screamed of harm.

"If you want," he said softly, "a fight, then I'm willing to give you one."

I figured it was a good time to intervene.

I drew my sword and walked into the kitchen almost casually, yet I had it raised when I crossed the threshold. My muscles were loose and ready. My mind was sharp and prepared; I only meant to prove Nico had backup, but should violence break out, I was waiting.

To my surprise, there was naught but a girl.

She looked older than Hunter, not too tall and not too short yet very lofty indeed, with hair like ink tied in a braid behind her back not unlike Shay's. Storming eyes locked on mine as I walked in. She wore armor and a purple cloak over a simple outfit of jeans, combat boots, and a purple t-shirt. On her shoulders gleamed many medals in nice little rows that made me slightly annoyed. I mean, come on. Who can read them when they're all covering one another, anyway?

It was an ADHD thought I really should not have let slip. The way she turned on me screamed of an enemy sharp and trained, and an enemy I really didn't want to make.

Across the table from her was Nico. He was thin but not quite tall enough to call it wiry and nearly as pale as I was, like paper wrapped around sticks. Oh, I'm sure if he bothered to remove his aviator's jacket, you'd see muscles of some sort. One would never call thin-shouldered Nico _buff,_ but like most of us he was far from weak. His eyes had turned a dark cobalt-glass blue under stress and were shrouded by messy, uncut black bangs darker than midnight. Shadows had gathered around those eyes, stains of purple screaming of sleep lost, and the light in those eyes glowing with something very close to insanity. A sword and sheath hung from a chain belt around his waist. One leg to his black jeans was tucked into his right boot, while the left hung free. His slender hands were clenched angrily on the edge of the table. On his right hand's middle finger, a silver skull ring glinted and displayed its proud grin as if laughing at them both.

I looked from one to the other, waiting. There was silence.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Well? What's going on here?"

"What are you doing here?" was Nico's first demand.

I waved him off. "Later. I meant _her_."

"My _name,"_ the girl spat angrily, "is Reyna. I'm the Second Praetor of the Twelfth Legion. I don't believe we've met, but from what I'm told, you and Jason left quite the impression on one another."

My blood ran cold.

A smirk crossed her face. "Ah. So you're the one I'm searching for."

"Apparently," I replied coolly, sheathing Întuneric and hoping she couldn't hear my racing heart. A Roman?! Here?! We'd scared them out of LA for good, last time they tried to interfere with our quest. And for good reason. "What's so important about me?"

"Bree," Nico warned as I stepped toward the table.

I sighed and moistened my lips. At my feet, the shadow of the table began to bend. I could feel it reach and touch something inside, a cool brush, a contained whisper.

Reyna stared in shock as I began to speak. It wasn't a language with audible words; rather, there were twitches in the air, random cold spots, random blasts of warm air when there was no wind. The things that go bump in the night. The sudden, unnatural sweet taste on the tongue. Nico's eyes glinted with curiosity.

_"She's a Roman demigod,"_ I told him. _"Leave this to me."_

_"She's charged in here like a royal bi-"_

_"Nico."_

Nico wasn't daft. Anger fed by worry faded away and he stepped back, knowing all too well that this could end in disaster if he didn't leave me room to work.

The storm in Reyna's eyes leveled to meet me. "If I ordered you to translate that, I don't think you would."

"Sorry," I smiled, "but I haven't sworn myself to any Legion or Praetor. So I wouldn't have to do it."

She nodded. "And that means you don't have to do anything I ask. But you will anyway, of your own free choice."

"Most people will, if threatened," I muttered. "Don't beat around the bush; if you're going to speak to me as an equal and not as my commander then _do so_."

Her eyes narrowed. "We are not here as _equals,_ make no mistake. But if you want the truth unornamented, I'll give it. I have a job for you, and if you don't do it, I shall reveal your existence and your secret to my Legion and send them after you, including Octavian and Dianna, who would take the news quite hard. My terms are that you swear to do this task before I tell you what it is. That'll be when you make your choice, not after." She leaned forward and planted her hands on the table. A nervous tongue darted out and licked her lips; the odd motion reminded me of Moon during lunchtime.

I can't say that the proposition was pleasing. Nor that I wasn't bothered by it. My stress levels had been shocked into a relative low recently; now, with this final straw on my back, I could feel myself straining again. True worry gathering in my throat. Anxiety in my fingers.

Behind me, Nico shuffled on his feet.

"What makes you," I said slowly, "think I'm fit for any task of yours?"

"My angry Legion."

"You know what I meant."

She considered. Not her answer, I could tell; merely how to present it. Then something clicked in her eyes, and she had hardened once more. "My colleague Jason found you… rather interesting."

Well, crap. Instead of driving them out two months ago, I'd dragged them _in…_

"Interesting?" I sighed. "I'm a lone demigod off doing her own quests and doing what she can to stay alive. Is that so odd?"

"_Lone_?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Nico coughed nonchalantly.

My eyes narrowed. "I have very few connects, and I make do with those. You still haven't answered my question."

She sighed and stole a sly glance out the window, where the sun had yet to reach its height. Warm shades of natural yellow sliced through the air, shredding the city's painful artificial glow, blessing the floating dust and the curtains and the blinds and the table and the floor and everything else it touched, even the translucent air. "See, that's exactly what was interesting. He mentioned that you'd been banned from Camp."

"That I have been," I muttered.

"I have a right to know what it is. Or are you going to deny me that?"

Psh. Politics. Rights and privileges and that lovely debate. Rather than engaging it and taking on a battle I couldn't win, I simply handed it to her. "It was… It was a mistake. I was misled and young and new to all this. If the things I'd done were reversible, I'm sure… Well, I'm fairly positive that my sentence would be different then."

The empty air to my right burned. It took everything I had not to glance at it and give her any clues.

She nodded slowly. "So whatever you did, you've made up for it, then."

I blinked. "Uh… It didn't seem that way."

"It's in the past," Nico spat. "Leave it."

"It seems to me," Reyna drawled, ignoring him, "that you would not be free to roam the world of your own free will if you weren't trusted. Why is it that you're not confined by boundaries or a city to protect or even a Praetor? Not even Lupa's training?"

I looked at the table. The answer to that, now, could start a war…

"Um… I plead the fifth."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "And there it is. Jupiter trusts you, yet you know what you've done. Whatever crimes you committed, you are guilty, guilty and shamed greater than a son who's betrayed Rome and his father both in one fell move. And to survive out here, you have power. Not the kind I hold, not the kind an augur can have, but power. It seems like a combination I could put to use."

I glared up at her. "Okay. So I'm interesting. What do you want?"

"Do you recall what Jason looks like?"

"Blonde. Tall. Scar on his lip. Eyes like his father's," I recalled with a bitter taste on my tongue. "Why?"

She sighed and looked at the window again, as if longing to be out of it. "…I… You see…"

I was ready for more tough trash talk, or perhaps some more political concepts. Shock went through me like adrenaline as her shoulders sagged and her head dropped. I froze – I hadn't even noticed until then the way my fingers had been nervously dancing across the table.

"Jason's gone," she whispered. "He disappeared yesterday morning, last seen the night before that. We've searched everywhere. And it's become clear that he's been captured."

Silence came down on us like judgment day on the wicked. Behind me, Nico tensed.

Jason Grace? Gone, just like that?

And hardly a day after Perceus Jackson?

My heart began to race, that familiar panic rising again after three days of dormancy. There was no denying this now. Gaea was on the move once more.

And that was a very, very bad thing.

"That's news," I managed.

"It is," she sighed, trying to regain her composure. It wasn't until then that I realized she might've only shown emotion in the first place as a tester, to see what appealed to me more; formalities and limits or pity. What scared me is that I didn't know.

But here's what I was sure of; if I could see some honest feelings from her, I might be able to sneak more information out of this.

"Were you close?" I asked, unable to keep some of my own honest concern from slipping out.

She didn't look so tall now. She looked worn and stressed, not unlike the way I'd seen Hunter during the Battle of Manhattan. The thought struck home. "…Us? No, not him and I. Close friends at most. Partners in the work sense." She lifted her head and ran a hand through her hair. "What matters is that the Twelfth Legion is missing its first Praetor, and we need him back. War is on the horizon."

Brambles churned in m stomach. If both the Greeks and the Romans could sense the impending bloodshed, then it sure as heck was coming. War was not something I wished to revisit. "War?"

"We don't know with whom, but yes, war. The Wolf House was the first thing taken. That means any recruits we get, we get ourselves from trekking around the country. I believe Jason explained this when you met on one of those quests."

"He did," I agreed, nodding. "Is the Wolf House all?"

"All that I'm sure you're not aware of. I bet you've seen the monsters coming back and noticed that Canis Major doubled in size in early November."

I shuffled nervously. Yes, yes, I'd known those things…

"You need help," I said as gently as I could.

She scowled, not liking those last two words, but didn't lie. "I don't… Yes, I'll admit we need something. Someone. Everyone. I fear we can't last much longer as we are. And the only way to stop this madness is to get Jason back and get us moving again. But I can't send many people out for Jason, because all the people I trust most are needed to keep chaos from breaking out in Camp. Or for scouting the Wolf House. I need an _auxilia_. So that's where you come in.

"I need you to search for Jason."

Her eyes were pleading. It set alarms off in my head; Praetor's don't _plead_. But there was no denying the desperation in her tone.

She wasn't lying.

I turned to look at Nico. "You think we could work something out?"

"I'm sure we can," he lied, nodding.

I faced Reyna again. "Well. There you have it. We'll look."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere we can. Nico was about to start traveling, anyway. We'll add Jason on our list of things to do."

"You aren't _adding him on your list,"_ Reyna growled, balling her hands into fists. "He's First Praetor, your commander or not, and he's a priority. He's the difference between winning and losing this war."

_As is Percy,_ I thought, but didn't comment.

"I have already shared your task with you before swearing you to it," Reyna warned. "Don't push me farther."

I sighed and hung my head. "Alright, alright. We really can't handle more as it is, but he'll be among our top three precedence issues, 'kay? Satisfactory?"

She looked me up and down, critical dark eyes blazing.

"You've also broken your oath to be entirely truthful," I reminded her. "I'm not stupid. Cut the pity parade."

A smile crossed her face. "I'm sorry. The rhetoric arts are… of new importance to me. Figured I had to practice somewhere. And I was not lying; something about you inclines me to trust you with more than I know I should. You remind me of your… Of someone."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't give chase. "Alright. So we good?"

She looked at the window again and pursed her lips. I got the feeling that she was waiting for something.

"Would you have me swear it by the River?"

She turned with that smile still on her face. "Ah. That's what I was looking for. Despite the mess you're in, Jason took to you well. He spoke of you with awe. And he was inclined very much to trust you; he wanted to force you into the Legion merely so he had reason to put you up at the Wolf House and see what you'd do."

"Because his daddy 'trusts' me, right?"

"No. Because you offered to swear."

"Uh… okay?"

She leaned forward again and whispered softly, "Romans don't _swear._ The gold and silver in our blood is pure enough. Your flesh and blood is your oath. Romans are trustworthy and above bonding themselves with bodiless words. It's insulting to ask someone to forge an oath for you. Yet you offered to swear yourself."

I fell silent. Again, how could I even begin to explain the mix of Rome and Greece that I was…?

She leaned back and shook her head. "Well. I will treat you like that someone I know, then; in all honesty, in true expression and tone and proven by the Roman blood in my veins. _Jason _trusted you, and that last piece of him is what I will depend on most until his return. I won't make you swear again." A sad look crossed her face. "Please don't fail me, Bree. I'll leave you alone, we won't pressure you into the Legion, won't threaten you again. Just bring him back safely."

I didn't speak.

"If you're done," Nico said curtly, "you can go. The door's that way."

The soft, pained look in her eyes vanished as she glared at him. "I am not daft. Keep in mind that I made no promise of safety to or have any reason to trust _you."_ Her gaze returned to me. "You have a very mean butler, Bree."

_"Butler?!"_ Nico yelped, outraged.

"I assumed that's what you were," she said as she was walking into the living room. "Not that great at your art, but you suffice, I guess. I should take you home to Terminus. You could work with Julie. She'll teach you how it's done." She gave him an icy smile and laid a hand on his forearm. He stiffened and growled, eyes fixed on her fingers.

"Alright!" I burst, shoving them apart before he could get too unnerved. "Thanks for coming, Reyna. And thanks for… For trusting me."

The words hadn't meant to come out. But they did. Quite suddenly, I decided I liked Reyna.

She smiled once more, that pleased expression that left wisps of sadness in her eyes. "You're welcome."

The door shut quietly as she left.

The instant she was gone, Nico huffed and slumped against the wall. "Great gods of Olympus! That was annoying." His eyes met mine. "Why did you come?"

"I wanted to say bye," I said, unable to stare but unable to look away. The reminder of his upcoming quest burned hungrily in my mind, eating away at the scrambled kindling it was.

"Well. I'm glad you came." For a moment, light danced in his midnight irises, and his lips twitched in the long-forgotten echo of a smile. My troubles seemed to melt. "It seems we've got some things to talk about."

oOo

**Nyx: Like Sebby's got anything on Nico.**

**Nic: Are you saying you wish Grell upon him?**

**Nyx: Well, that's not what I meant. And Grell can keep his hands OFF my di Angelo. But, now that you mention it… *creepy smile***

**Nic: Forget I said anything.**

**Nyx: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Feedback is always appreciated. The words kind, not the microphone-too-close-to-speakers kind. That's just annoying.**

**.**

**Nyx: Oh, before I forget; y'all got to look up "A Gory Demise" by Creature Feature. Great for Halloween. Could see Nico as the speaker at the beginning. And it just screams of something Orpheus would sing. That's totally him laughing at the end of it.**


	5. Sharps and Flats

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan still owns PJatO and HoO. Not us. Nor do we have intent to steal credit or his work.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Emoxkitten – Nyx: Heh… About that…**

oOo

"This is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Like, _cross the Rubicon_ bad. Please tell me you're kidding."

"I don't kid," Nico answered, ducking into his room. "She found this place on her own. Just barged in and started demanding to speak to you." The door swung limply half-open. If I craned my neck, I could peer inside. Not that I expected there to be much; Nico didn't own nor see much value in most things one would use to decorate a room. But the forbidding sense that I was invading something kept my eyes on the carpet.

My own thoughts helped out, too, of course. I sighed heavily. "Yep. We're Carthage. Burned flatter than paper and poisoned with salt and sold into slavery. We're dead."

"What, I'm supposed to be scared of a few Romans?" Nico teased from inside. "Funny."

Now, Nico was quite funny when he wanted to be, but _optimistic_? I shook the thought off before it could register, as I really doubted I could handle what was already on my mind. No need to add more pressure. Reyna on her own was plenty. See, the last time Greek and Romans knew of one another (save our group, which was mainly because of my mixed heritage), we caused this little incident called the Civil War. Perhaps you've heard of it. "You ought to be. I'm not kidding, either. Nothing grew on Cartharge's soil for hundreds of years after the Romans were done with them."

He came out of his room with a dark, insulated backpack hanging from one hand. He halted and leaned against the doorframe with a scowl. "Look, I don't like what we'll have to do, but it's an easy fix. Leave it to me. I can sort it out today and you just forget about it. Reyna and I are headed in the same direction, anyway."

Not that I didn't trust Nico, but the suggestion made me squirm. "…And what did you have in mind?"

He let out a long breath. "…Playing dead."

The idea struck me like a baseball bat. Images flashed through my mind from the battle with Orpheus nearly two months ago; of Nico lying adorned in crimson across overgrown green grass, utterly still half in the tree's shadow, eyes of a glazed statue. He wouldn't have done it if he'd known I wasn't on board with his little trick. Or so he swore. But I hadn't known and he'd had no choice but to lay his faith in Hunter's retaliation and…

I shook my head. "You can't do that. She's an honest Roman and will try to burn or bury the body or something."

"Not if there's a hellhound on her heels," Nico shrugged. "Or some other anonymous demon crashing around just out of sight, howling and sniveling and radiating fear. It'd be easy enough to chase her off."

A ball of cotton caught in my throat. "No. I don't know how you pulled that off with Orpheus, but no. Working magic and trying to lie there dead at the same time isn't going to be easy. Besides – it's me she's really after. You'd need both of us dead."

A mischievous light danced in his dark eyes and he stood straighter, even offering a twitch of his lips. "You wouldn't have to _be _there. I'm sure I can find a ghost who wouldn't mind me borrowing his hand. The rest, I'll just get something from a slaughterhouse and make a generic mess. All I'd have to do is call for help and then scream and then lie there holding the hand in the middle of the scene that's been set up with the pig corpse and presto! Dead demigods."

One look at his face told me he was having way too much fun with this. "Um…"

A familiar, sharp-toothed grin crossed his face. The Cheshire smile that I'd come to realize wasn't totally misleading. "It'd be awesome. I could actually make this work."

I grasped at excuses. "Could you really find a ghost with that'd let you barrow its body's hand? One that has the same skin shade as me and recently dead?"

"Lots of ghosts are willing to lend me a hand when I ask for it." He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Heh heh. _Lend me a hand_."

"Hilarious," I said dryly.

He grinned that Cheshire display of bone-white teeth, pleased.

"But you can't," I said. The smile disappeared. "I meant what I said to her about looking for Jason. We can't just cheat out of this."

He was silent, sharp eyes locked on mine, as he thought it over. Eventually, he sighed. "We can't, Sis."

"We have to. One, we're the only help the Romans have when it comes to facing… facing _Gaea_." He sneered at the name. "Two, it'll keep them pacified. When they get their Praetor, they can take the Wolf House back, and things will go on as normal without the threat of them running across more Greeks on their patrols. Three, you don't have a choice, because I bet that Percy is in the same place as Jason."

"That's a nice thought. A Son of Hades meeting a Son of Jupiter. World War III and the second Civil War and the demigods versus Gaea all at once."

"Exactly. That's why I'm coming with you."

His face went blank and he held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. You're not-"

"I am. Perhaps Hunter, Brook, and Shay, too. If they want to. But definitely me."

"You mean to tell me that you'd leave your sisters alone in Oswego?"

I hesitated. The thought of Brook alone was enough to make me consider heading back and forever binding myself to the same room as her. "I… Look, we've found Shay. She'll be there. And she's learned a lot. And she found twin daughters of Atlas right there in Oswego. That's a good-sized fighting force. You, on the other hand, are running off into the world where demons don't die and Romans are hiding around every third corner, and you're doing it _alone_."

"Does Hunter even know that you're talking about this?"

I fell silent. He'd hit home there. "…Well, uh…"

"Sis, look at me. I don't know how you see this quest, but for me, it's things returning to normal. I'm used to being a lone nomad; I can handle myself just fine."

I did look at him. His cold eyes burned and his face had fallen into its usual apathetic mold. But Nico and I knew each other better than that by now; I could see deeper. I could see the way his posture was just short of perfect and how his jaw was constantly tensing and the way his eyes darted around, how his breaths came too fast, and I knew what it meant. Nico is never easy to read, but I could tell when something was wrong.

He didn't like this house. Sure, he'd considered setting up the funeral home again, but it had been so long since he'd been cooped up in a single building. Nico had lived as a homeless child for so long that he tried to boil water from the tap before drinking it. And he wasn't taking too kindly to the extended time under a roof. Nor with so many living visitors. Even if those visitors were only me every few days, aside from Reyna.

To me, he seemed a little too edgy for that to be the only problem – his hands were also twitching, and I'd never seen him constantly knead the carpet with his feet like that – but I knew what answer he wanted me to give.

"Yeah," I muttered. "I guess you can. But this time, monsters don't stay dead. And The Patron will be after you. You can't… You can't just run off on your own again. It's not the same."

"Sis-"

"No. You're not going alone. Whatever's out there, it took Percy from Camp Half-Blood and Jason out from under the nose of the Twelfth Legion. You can't face that on your own."

"How many more monsters will I attract because they'll catch the scent of a larger party so easily? Exactly how much harder is it to be stealthy with two than it is with one?"

I fell silent.

"Exactly. I'll be better off alone. Besides, Annabeth wasn't sure how the Olympians would react if you three came across Percy again. Much less Jason. _I'll _search for Perce and keep an eye out for Jason and send him your way if I see him, too. Okay?"

I looked at him. He was still fidgeting. There was a stress in his eyes that still screamed of something wrong.

I hung my head. "I just… I'm sorry. I just want to know you'll come back."

It was something I had always wanted. A brother. Of course, when I was younger, boys were icky and had the cooties. But the girls who lived with them managed just fine. At the very least, he would be someone to pick on. Hunter would keep his cooties in check for us. Then Brook came along and insisted that we were fine without a male among us. Then came the rumors about Nico on Mount Othrys. And then Ethan…

The air between us tensed so quickly, I swear I heard it crack. "Do you really think," he growled, "of all people, that _I'd _be one to pull something like that?"

What he was implying made me flinch. "No. That's not what I – well, it was, but I wasn't trying to-"

"Sis, I _know _that people don't always come back from quests. And I can't tell you how much I hate myself for begging you to trust me on this, but it's honestly our best shot, alright? I'll keep contact with you through dreams. Every night, I promise. Even if you fall asleep in class, I'll take advantage and call you, 'kay? And I'll do whatever I have to if it means coming back alive." Obsidian eyes glazed over with a slight sheen of cobalt, boring into me.

There was honesty in that gaze. Nico didn't make promises he wouldn't keep.

"Fine," I muttered, scowling at the carpet. "Fine. When are you leaving?"

"Right now," he said, shouldering his bag. "I was ready to go before that Roman loudmouth showed up."

The answer sent another burst of hot worry through my throat. "You're going on a nation-wide game of hide-and-seek, and all you've packed fits in that little bag?"

"Yep," he said cheerfully.

There was a moment of odd silence. Then, before I knew what was going on, his arms were around me.

I didn't even waste time being shocked. I leaned into him and returned the hug, squeezing his waist as hard as I dared. The rough material of the bag dug angrily into my wrist.

"If I was entirely honest," Nico whispered, "I'd admit that I just want the same for my sister."

"That's not fair," I murmured back. "We're demigods. That risk came in the job description."

"So you understand," he chuckled. "Good. And it's great that you found Shay. Be careful, training the newbies."

"We will," I sighed.

"Is everyone else still unaware that The Patron is Gaea?"

"Yes."

He sighed and squeezed my shoulders harder. "Alright. Then we're in the best situation we could possibly be in. Take care."

"You, too," I murmured as he reluctantly pulled away. Something in his eyes still bothered me, but for the most part, he seemed to have calmed down. I wish I could've said the same for me, but in reality I was shivering like a Chihuahua.

He didn't look back as he turned and disappeared into the shadow of the wall.

oOo

"She's back!" Hunter bellowed, leaning back in the reclining chair and throwing her limbs wide as if being squished by a massive boot. "Cue the movie!"

"Aw," Brook said, pawing at Moon, who in turn snapped playfully at her. Given a few more minutes, they'd be rolling around the carpet at one another's throats. "I wanted to finish Shay's story about the hydra."

"The hydra was a distraction," Hunter argued. "We were waiting for Bree so we could start movie night." She craned her neck back to smile at me upside-down. "Hey. We waited for you."

"I see that," I said dryly, forgetting for the moment just how big of an honor it was to have Hunter halt her movie night for my sake. The disturbed look Nico had sported was still bothering me. And despite his promise, worry still ate at my gut. I needed some space to think. And I wasn't going to get that with Shay here. My sisters, maybe, but not Shay. So I played nice. "What's going on?"

"You missed stroganoff. And a conversation about the hydra," Hunter offered. "What'd your half-brained brother know?"

"Aside from what he told us earlier about the gryphon? Not much. Reyna showed up, though."

She blinked. "You don't mean the Romans' Second Praetor, do you?"

"That's exactly who I mean. She confirmed what Jason hinted at; the Wolf House has been captured. By what, we don't know, but it seems The Patron's behind it. As well as the kidnapping of Percy and Jason both."

She let out a long breath, thinking. "…Jason?"

"Two days ago, just one day after Percy. Yep." I sighed. "What's this news about a snake?"

"Shay killed the hydra two days before she came here," Brook offered. "It's weird, ya know, 'cause it's just a wild monster. It should've been looking for food, but it tried to steal her stuff."

"Ripped up what was left of my little Bob machine," Shay snorted, rolling her eyes. "Stupid snake."

Hunter shook her head. "Guys, this plus the gryphon means something. And the Wolf House. And Percy and Jason. We have to figure out what all this means. Any other possible clues?"

Brook considered. "Have you checked your father's books?"

"Twice. Might be worth another look," Hunter agreed. "At this rate, I'm surprised our snot-covered drakon buddy hasn't shown up again."

I shuddered as I remembered that monstrosity. "Ugh. If you though the hydra was bad, Shay…"

"I saw the drakon once or twice when I was with you four," Shay shrugged. "That thing radiates old magic. The goop it's covered in, since it's liquid, I can sense, and it's just as bad. Something about that thing is a big deal."

"Could it cast spells?" Hunter asked.

"Not a commonality of drakons," Brook mused.

"Drakon cast no spells," Moon agreed. "Not on me. Mistress' magic protecting me."

"My name is Brook," said mistress insisted.

"My name is Moon!" the wolf barked eagerly, missing the point.

Next to her, a large, charcoal wolf rumbled grumpily.

"His name is Night!" Moon translated.

Hunter leered. "Oh, is it? Didn't recognize him without the layer of wall."

The wolf snarled and leapt onto the couch. Before we could stop him, he planted his feet, lifted his head, and let out an ear-shattering howl.

"He says, 'I AM NOT A DOOR!'" Moon yelled above the noise.

"Noticed!" Hunter called.

Night barked some more just to prove his point, ending with flat ears, bared fangs, and a very annoyed growling noise.

"Very nice," I approved, clapping slowly. "Wonderful song, Beethoven."

Brook swatted at him. "Get off the couch before Granny comes in here and sees you! Get! Behave like a pack member, not a dog!"

Night reluctantly got off the couch, snarling at Moon playfully as he walked past. She snipped back and lunged for him.

"Well," I said, stepping gingerly around the resulting whirlwind of claws and fur. "I'm gonna go practice my violin. Y'all have fun with movie night."

"You're not gonna watch with us?" Hunter asked, shocked.

"No," I sighed, climbing the stairs. From above, Sylvester was flicking his ears curiously at me.

They did not question me.

The relative quiet of my room with the door closed wasn't as calming as I'd hoped it would be. Sylvester curled up on my bed and watched through heavy-lidded eyes, as if waiting to assess my progress with the situation.

I sighed and glanced at him. "Is it true? That cats have the ability to walk between realms? That they have their own private passages to the Underworld and back?"

He just blinked, dumbfounded.

"No? Okay." I grabbed my violin's case from where it sat above the heater and laid it out next to him. "Let me know if you find one of those tunnels, though. The sooner we find one, the better for all of us."

The process of readying myself for a good song was familiar, at least, and my muscles found comfort in repeating the well-known actions. The delicate measuring of the bow hairs' tightness, the wide, broad, loud strokes of tuning. The gentle plucks. The miniscule twists on the fine-tuner knobs. A large brush of rosin just to be safe. The smell of it rising in the air. The rustle of pages as I readied the music.

Yet even then, doubts tugged on my mind. I shoved them aside. _Not now, not now. Worry later. Fret for your brother and dissect Gaea's plots in private later. And make sure you don't let her identity slip, lest you want the offspring of Hell and the successors of the Titans to add your sisters to their kill list…_

I clicked on my iPod real fast, and for the first time in my life, I wished that _Viva la Vida_ was a faster song. The cellos' intro just took too long.

Immediately, I found that I was playing C natural instead of C sharp. Simple fix, you'd think, but no. Natural it stayed. Next I found that I was off beat, and halfway through the song, now a whole measure behind.

I ripped the ear buds out and set the violin down as gently as I could with shaking hands. Frustration raged through every cell like a tidal wave, ready to crash down over land and wipe every last obstruction away. Sylvester, whose ears had flattened while I played, mewled questioningly.

The music nearly ripped as I shoved it aside and threw myself onto the blankets next to him. I was very tempted to ask if he'd found that tunnel yet, but didn't trust my voice.

Then came a knock on the door.

I groaned and got up, zipping the violin case shut. "Come in."

Hunter slid quietly between the door and the wall, then shut it behind her with a silence only Nico and I could beat. Golden eyes glittered knowingly. "Hey. You alright?"

"No," I muttered, setting the case aside.

"I'm guessing the conversation with Ghost Boy didn't go well?"

"It went like I expected it to," I spat as I began to pace the tiny room. Half of it was taken by my bed, and the rest cluttered with dresser and nightstand and mess. Only a single strip of open floor was visible like its own road between the window and the door.

She sighed and sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap. The sight of it made me uneasy. Presentable, yes; that was indeed Hunter, but when we were alone? Just talking? No. She'd curse and fling her hands around and make large gestures.

Her nervous posture make me look away. After a moment of tense silence, she said, "Don't worry about that idiot. It's a normal situation for him. The worst he probably has to worry about is the Underworld opening again. Then he'll have to run from Persephone, or get turned into a dandelion again."

I snorted. "Oh, yeah. It's not the reincarnating monsters or the fact that they can't even behave when they're alive anymore. Like the hydra stealing and the gryphon for no apparent reason abandoning its flock and leaving Alaska like gryphons never do. Or The Patron's latest moves. Or the fact that she's already taken Percy and Jason both. Or that it means the Greeks and Romans aren't only on the verge of war with her but with each other. Or who-knows-what-else stalking him for his abilities-"

She closed her eyes and held up a hand to cut me off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop it right there. You know who you sound like?"

"Who?" I snarled.

"Dad. When I first mentioned an interest in boys."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, plopping down beside her. "It's not funny."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is it supposed to bother me that he's gonna be picked clean by gryphons?"

"Stop!" I gasped, shoving at her, the horror half-mocked. "That's horrible!"

"Your _whining _is horrible. Get over yourself," she teased, poking me in the ribs.

I yelped and jumped back, lashing out with my feet by instinct. She swerved to one side and caught my boot mid-swing. A wicked grin crossed her face.

It turned to a dangerous scowl when she saw my own expression. "You are so stubborn."

I sighed and looked at the floor, where Sylvester was now pawing at the doorknob. "I just…"

"I know. Hey, do ya want to hear what I'd tell Dad when he had the blues?"

"Sure," I said half-heartedly.

The grin that halved her face made me instantly regret it. "I'd tell him he wasn't doing too bad for something made by Uranus."

I tried in that proud way the downcast do when suppressing a laugh. It was my own memory of him – crisp, presentable, charismatic – that did me in. The cause was utterly hopeless. I burst into giggles. "Suicidal much?"

"Please. I'm just too amazing. It wouldn't be fair for humble little me to deprive the world of all _this_."

My laughs were finally brought under control and I curled up on my side, smiling. The bed was comfy and it would be later that night – when I went to bed, when Nico would contact me through dreams. At least my sisters were safe.

As for the rest of the stuff… Well. We took it one pitch at a time. And Hunter wouldn't have us fall anything short of survival, by both mind and body.

Her hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Better?"

My whole defense system crumbled at that word. I heard thunder in the distance and knew, had known, a storm was coming… "…Yeah…"

She sighed and laid down beside me. "I wanted to run something by you. Because you can handle it and 'cause I'm half convinced it's insane."

Rocks sank into my stomach as I recalled her folded hands. Of course. She'd come in here for a serious talk, not to nurse the cuts fear's thorny claws left. The time for bandaging was over. Time to head back into the fight.

Into the _war…_

The thought made me sick.

"Did Nico seem bothered by something when you talked to him?" Hunter asked.

I shrugged. "He did, actually. Could be the gryphon. Or Reyna. Or war. You know, with The Patron. I think he sees it as inevitable." My fingers slid into my pocket, fingering Întuneric's long rectangle. The glyphs were cold fire on my fingertips. At their touch, I tasted cinnamon, felt sun on my skin, saw the color red, heard a mother's voice…

"War would be bad," Hunter agreed.

I pulled my hand away, severing the traces of the people I'd killed in the last one from my mind. "But that's not what you meant?"

"No."

I turned to glare. "Don't say it like that. Like he's hiding something."

"I'm sure Death Breath is, but I think I know what it is this time," she moaned, letting her head fall back and thunk against the wall. "And I can't blame him."

The rocks in my gut grinded against one another. If she suspected Gaea… If she knew The Patron meant giants… If she became aware of the Titan's successors and the offspring of Hell itself…

Her golden eyes snapped open and met mine. "Seriously, don't laugh. Just tell me if it's possible."

"You sound uncertain. You're never uncertain," I rushed. "So yeah, it's probably a stupid thought."

She scowled. "No, I'm serious. You're the one person I've ever come to for legit counsel, and I need your help now. So do you, and so does Brook. I… I don't think the prophecy is over."

The rocks vanished, leaving empty space that was twice as painful. "…What?"

"The one from the dream-voice. The one you said you heard from whoever was on the drakon in early November."

"That's crazy," I rasped. "It's… Orpheus is gone. What's left of it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she said was drowned in a scream. A grinding, house-shaking, cell-splitting scream. It blasted through the house from the parking lot.

The last thought on my mind was _human._

oOo

**Nyx: First cliffy! Already! This book's got a lot more action in it, guys. It's gonna be fun.**

**Nic: Please tell us what y'all think. Predictions are more than welcome! What's Hunter's theory of the prophecy, what's upsetting Nico, etc. It's all appreciated.**

**Nyx: Oh, and before we sign off, y'all be sure to read something by Stephen King. He's amazing.**

**Nic: 'Til Monday, guys!**

**Nyx: 'Til Monday. Happy weekend.**


	6. Rot and Ruin

**DISCLAIMER: Guess who just revealed that the (minor) character with the most fangirls won't ever return their feelings?**

**Rick. Riordan. Believe me, I've cried plenty over that…**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Koryandrs – Nyx: I can't believe I waited this long to read Stephen King. It's awesome. And thanks, that dialogue comment – it sounded scripted to me, but for some reason, that's always the way I've imagined Reyna speaking.**

**Goddess-Of-Battle – Nyx: OoO Granny has fans! Kol she's one of my favorites, too. There's a lot planned for her. I honestly thought that the cliffhanger sounded cheesy, but I'm glad it worked.**

**Lara of Hecate – Nyx: Again, I thought the cliffhanger wasn't that good, but yay. And I'm glad you're so worked up. There's a lot planned for those things…**

oOo

"I don't want you _here!"_ Annabeth scowled, looking about as wild as an empousa and like she was about to commit crimes worthy of the image. "What good are you if you're in the exact grounds we're already covering?! Spread out! What part of _help _did you not understand?!"

"I didn't know you were here," I argued, "and if there might be clues-"

"Then we'd find them on our own! Go somewhere else!"

The suggestion of shadow travel set heavy, spiked rocks in me, rooting me to the spot. And the condescending tone wasn't helping. "No. I'm already here; I might as well search with you. For the clues that only I can find."

"And what would that be?" she spat, too irate to think it through like she usually did.

I glared at her until she paled, but she didn't back down. "No," came through gritted teeth. "No. He's not dead."

I sighed and let my head fall back, closing my eyes against the dangling grey clouds. They were smothering even from hundreds of feet beneath; great rolls of not fluff but heavy clods, as if we'd all been buried alive.

How often was it that Annabeth jumped to a horrible conclusion before I did? Even if I could sense that the thought was false?

Not often.

"I meant other dead people," I muttered. "Like Orpheus, from last month. The Patron's army is full of the escapee suckers."

"Oh." She fell back onto her feet, abandoning her towering perch and staring down Fifth Avenue. "…Alright, then. Do what you have to. Report anything you find immediately, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, turning and striding away quickly. I didn't want to be around her when she was like this.

I didn't want to be around _anyone,_ at the moment…

I made my way, weaving through the thick crowd, for the Hudson River. It wasn't too hard if I stuck super close to the buildings. That way, I had at least a few feet of spare space. And there were no awkward and accidental bumps. Now and then, someone would open a door and nearly ram into my face, but I learned to watch out for that.

The city was tolerable. I knew greater storms than the one it hosted. The crashing waves of voices and honks and mechanical whirrs and the thunder of feet and tires bothered me, of course, but it wasn't a frontal threat. The sprawling masses of people weren't, either. I can't say it was pleasant.

But I have definitely seen worse.

Avoiding the crowd as I did, I made good time to the river. People kept walking by with superficial expressions and the water slugged along no differently. Grey, choppy waves reflected the bulging clouds above. I stared down over the railing at it for a while.

Supposedly, Percy had spoken to the spirit of the Hudson and the East Rivers shortly before the Battle of Manhattan started. Somehow I didn't think they'd answer to me the same way.

The idea that I'd be stationary here in New York was relieving.

Immediately, I was shot through with guilt. Me being stalled in New York was crushing news to Annabeth, and worse to Percy and Jason, who could be under torture at the moment. But for me? It meant not heading west, closer to the place I didn't want to be. And it meant no shadow travel. Which meant I wouldn't tire so easily.

Which meant no sleep.

Which meant no nightmares.

Of course, I'd worn myself out plenty getting here. After finding the clearing where Orpheus had died void of any hints, I'd had a few choices. Stay in the west, or risk exhaustion and bail to the east?

To be honest, where Camp Half-Blood might be investigating hadn't meant anything to me when I made my decision.

Another wave of guilt racked through me. Overhead, thunder rolled.

I shoved off the railing and marched down the street, dodging once more the prickly elbows and bullish processions.

The sounds of life were everywhere now. No longer did they stand as my ignored background; the snarl of cars and screams of people and even the smells of exhaust and hotdog stands was slowly advancing. Creeping up like a cat on a mouse in the night.

I scowled. The last thing I was willing to play was _mouse._

The spastic throb of the city was shoved aside once more as I turned into a small, dark alley where there'd be peace. There I stopped and lifted my head. I could smell the concrete now, and the dirt, and the trash, and the mess that hungry rats tend to leave. I could hear the wind bouncing off the walls.

I shuddered and dispelled the thoughts of Orpheus that surfaced then.

_Is anyone there? _Cautious emotion flowed into the thought; my unease in this strange and wild place, a tad bit of desperation with its precise source well-hidden.

Of course, the dead did not answer.

The balance between the respect they deserve from all living and the authority the Ghost King holds is rather intricate. The spells are even more so. There is a code of morals, too; though most of it was lost during the war. In the end, I had to decide right and wrong for myself, as we all have to do at one point. And this wasn't exactly their business.

The affairs of the Living don't involve the Dead. Not at all. So I didn't dare insist.

Yet something solid rose in my throat then as I opened my eyes and gazed at the alley. A grim finality that came from a place I couldn't ignore.

This might not be their business. Not even Ethan or my own mother would care if I died, I was sure. But the fact that not a single soul even asked me what was going on – not even a ghost in a nearby building, and I could hear one not but two blocks east – screamed for attention.

"Think, Nico," I muttered. "It's not rocket science. Step by step; that's how you solve these problems."

The words weren't mine. They'd last been spoken _to_ me, rather, over a couple broken and crumpled sheets of math homework that still carried the scent of the teacher's overdone perfume…

I shook my head again. Not now, not now.

A long breath escaped as I made my thesis. If nobody at all even answered, then the message was clear. And it was familiar. The Living don't need the dead near as often as they think they do, and that's all that was going on here.

I didn't need their help. They knew something was well within my reach here.

"Of course. Back to the basics," I muttered, another quote from that same night ages and ages ago.

I drew my sword and crept down the alley.

The cries of the city were soft but echoed strangely in here, in the little capillaries so rarely used. I crossed two other small streets and turned right into the next little crevice. This one was thin; I had to turn sideways for half of it, and barely stood straight through the rest.

Then, from behind me, a great, clicking wheeze went off. Like a giant robot had just breathed all over my backside.

I whirled, leveling Mνήμη. But it was only a bulky air conditioner coming to life.

The thought felt like ice. _Coming to life._ I quickly put the machine out of my mind and kept going.

My mouth stayed open most of the trip. I could definitely taste something now, and it wasn't the spirit I'd sensed earlier. And it was bitter.

This was more related to life than death, whatever it was.

I hadn't been feeling well to start with; avoiding sleep had already begun its slow siphon and my stomach wasn't the most content thing in the world. The farther I walked, the worse it seemed to get. The strong stink of magic – singed hair and gunpowder and something so acidic-arcane it could replace chloroform in most kidnappings – swamped the bitter trickle in my throat.

The tortured tide of noises had long faded by now.

I nearly missed it when I passed – if not for where my foot had fallen, I'd have never known it was there. But suddenly my foot did hit something and things exploded in my mind; the taste of magic and flames burning on my fingers and cold hands on my throat. Golden eyes and a low voice, quiet whispers in a closed-off room so horribly soundproof. Flames from blade and flames from within. Resolve and spite giving way to agony and petty hatred. The will to care scattered in the wind like drunkenly free dandelion seeds. Thanatos smiling at me from the back of the room but never once showing mercy, for all those harsh hours… A desperate idea, a crazy one, but I don't care, don't care, don't care, so long it ends…

Whatever had touched me disconnected, and reality snapped back to me like a rubber band; I'd fallen to my knees in the alley, Mνήμη lying before me, a cold wind promising the bursting of clouds soon to come. Sure enough, the first white flurries of snow had started to fall. The city seemed ridiculously stoned compared to the reek of blood and the touch of Backbiter.

Backbiter.

My gaze found a small piece of stone lying on the ground. Shining and gleaming, nothing but black and black shadows and little slivers of bright silver on its edges where the light just kissed it. Little veins weaving among its surface.

A chunk of marble. Black marble, laced with memories I knew well from when Bree and I first met.

Slowly, I reached out with a shaking hand. The memories didn't assault me this time. I held my ground, locked my mind in place, retreating to painful thoughts that I'd know even in the heart of Tartarus were mine and mine alone. At the touch of the marble, I now only felt the burn of magic in the back of my throat.

_Thank you,_ I thought, still not sure the dead had played a part in this or not. Nevertheless, I had something to be grateful for.

Because a chunk of marble from Mount Othrys doesn't just travel from its ruins across a country and plant itself in a shady New York alleyway. Someone had been there, grabbed it, and come here. Probably dropped it by accident.

And there was only one reason someone would have been in both places.

oOo

We hit the floor, weapons drawn and silence ringing like a funeral bell through the house. Save Sylvester, of course – he somehow managed to trigger the rotting knob on my door and slid out the room with a quick and startled _"Mrrp!"_

Golden eyes met mine. I nodded and, since I was closer, slowly crept to the window. Întuneric whispered and vibrated in my palm.

What I saw didn't even surprise me. Just spawned dread. "Hunter?"

"Yeah?" she whispered. The house creaked tentatively.

"How many times did you guys say the h word while talking with Shay?"

She chuckled darkly. "Hell?"

"No. The one that means giant twelve-headed snake."

"Oh, _that _h word… Aheh heh…"

"Styx," I muttered, ducking before the demon could spot me through the window.

From the threshold, a small dog barked.

We whipped our heads around to glare. Teddy, Granny's favorite little Yorkshire terrier, stood there with his little legs braced and wiry hair on end. Sulking next to him with Ozzy the Chihuahua.

"Sh!" Hunter snapped. "Shut the Styx up!"

The problem with _Styx _is that it sounds like _sticks._ "Arf!" Teddy barked. "Arf arf!"

"No arf! Bad dog!" I hissed.

Too late, I heard him whimper and saw his ears go flat.

Behind me, something slammed into the window hard enough to make the house shake. I yelped and scrambled for the door as the glass began to melt, steaming and dripping green, down the sill and onto the floor.

Hunter was on her feet in an instant. "Go go go!"

I leapt up and followed her out the door.

We flew down the stairs four at a time – or, in Hunter's case, just leapt off the side of the railing – and bolted for the foyer. Brook and Shay were already there on either side, quietly waiting.

Hunter just charged out the door and left us to follow.

Sunlight spilled over into the world and was blinding, coming off the snow. I tailed her up the frosty steps and onto a level field. What I saw was much worse from down here than it'd been from the window.

The snake, easily nine or ten feet high when it reared its heads, was nearly as long as the lot. Rather, it kept itself coiled up in the center. Scales much darker green than the drakon's gleamed among the white, white oblivion. A dozen giant heads hissed at once.

Each had two horns, and two rows of serrated shark teeth to match.

"Circle!" Hunter barked. We began to surround it.

Questioning her tactics wasn't my job right then, but I could tell instantly that it wasn't going to work. The great heads just arched in different directions, snapping at me, at Shay, at the six silver wolves in our midst. Brook snarled and the canines echoed it as they advanced.

Hunter's scythe raised, flashing twice in the sunlight. A smile crossed my face when I saw the signal.

I dove in, slicing at a head. It retreated and opened its wide jaws. From a dark pink maw, a jet stream of steaming green poison came flying.

My feet took me to one side and Întuneric swung around again, eager to kill.

"NOW!" Hunter screamed.

I pulled back and threw myself into the snow, diving out of the way. Even the wolves knew to turn and dash for cover.

The frost, previously packed solid beneath us, burst into water beneath the hydra. A monstrous geyser shot up and into the sky like the world's largest fire hose. Way up top, I could see a shadow writhing. Twelve high-pitched shrieks of fury fell over the city.

"Woo-hoo! That's for eating Hyperion's kid, you jerk!" Shay screamed, throwing her hands in the air.

She didn't mention her father, nor the fact that the hydra had been twisted and warped by society and was viewed as a water monster. But I knew she was thinking of it.

The water stopped. From above, the hydra came falling down, thirteen wild strings crashing down onto the asphalt road. Cracks appeared in the street.

Hunter whooped and charged, locking two heads in place with time magic before we even got there. The hydra's huge back end writhed like mad, trying desperately to pull free.

A small thrill it in my chest, utterly guilt-free. You don't feel guilt for killing demons.

But one might feel joy.

I danced around the nearest three mobile heads, taunting it with Întuneric. Întuneric, which hummed and purred and shared my sadistic moments. Whom I had named and wielded and loved, and whom had revealed every last part of itself, every last secret.

A set of teeth came flying at my face. I ducked, rolled, and came up with Întuneric raking down the throat's side. The demon screeched and sent a wave of pleasure through me.

At my feet, cold shadows curled.

Two more heads rose into the air, towering overhead like spindly monoliths. I could see the bumps of the spine, the ridges in the trachea; this thing had been starved recently.

It hissed and lunged.

Ice drowned my tongue as shadows flew upward, slamming into two wide pink gullets and sending half the snake's heads reeling.

Hunter came down like a storm cloud, Anonymous swinging behind her. For a moment, light glared off it, a blazing trail of righteous wrath defying the bleak and overbearing, hellish grey clouds above. With a condemning slice and thud, it sent two heads bouncing across the asphalt.

Before she even had time to move, Moon launched into the air and locked her jaws on the throat of a third.

"Stop!" Brook yelled, making six heads turn on her. She scowled and sent an arrow through the right eye of the nearest. "Moon, get back!"

Since it's not often Brook issues order in a fight, we all listened, retreating a few paces back into the parking lot. The snake screamed and shark teeth snapped at the air behind our heels. Moments later, another screech came, accompanied by the sliding of snake down an icy asphalt ramp on the hill.

Hunter signaled for us to fan out in the street again, uphill and facing the beast. "Stop beheading it! It'll grow to heads back for each one!" Brook called from where she'd scampered up the porch, bow leveled, arrow notched and ready.

"It's alright! Anonymous has Stygian iron!" Hunter replied. The scythe's glow pulsed at its name.

The hydra came charging back up the hill, its ram's horns glistening in the weak afternoon light.

"I don't think," Shay muttered, "that that matters."

Sure enough, the thing came strolling up with twenty-eight rows of shark teeth bared.

Întuneric hummed, annoyed, it my hands.

The hydra was level with Brook now. I sped into the street, enjoying the feel of pumping muscles, and swung Întuneric. Seven feet out, an extended arc of shadows shot from the dark road and slammed into the snake's midsection with enough force it felt like someone had thrown a sack of oranges at my chest. Its scream was cut off as it swerved and gave chase.

I fired twice more at the swarming mass of heads, dented a few snouts, before bolting back to the parking lot.

If I'd wanted to escape, sure, shadow travel would've worked. But I didn't.

The snake overtook me quickly. Two heads came flying at me so fast I was able to parry them both with one swipe of Întuneric. The force behind them sent me crashing into the snow.

The demon hissed and reared up, pink maws open inside rings of white teeth. Its breath reminded me of stale fish. Then it began to gurgle, poison foaming at the lips-

-And then the heads were snapped back, fourteen simultaneous _cracks!_ It writhed and reared further.

To get Anonymous's extra blade buried in its exposed chest.

Shay kept her leash of writhing water around it long, crooked necks as Hunter shoved the blade farther in. There was a sickening snap as the sword-like appendage burst into existence from its back, gleaming like diamonds in the light.

The wolves howled and pounced, teeth digging into its back. Within a matter of seconds, they had shredded the flesh and begun pulling at fleshy, black bone. Green blood leaked into the snow.

Still, it thrashed. The spine trailed behind its writhing body like a limp hose.

It wasn't until a spatula smacked its center head – and I mean _smacked,_ hard enough to cause a second break in the neck – that it began to crumble into dust.

Hunter kept her scythe in place until the demon fell away, nothing but shifting lumps of golden glitter at our feet. The wolves snarled and began playing in the glimmering sunlight snow to keep it separated.

_"That,"_ Shay spat, wiping monster dust off her cheek, "was nasty."

"Pssh," Hunter snorted, leaning on her scythe. It was cold and disconnected and sated, for the moment, nothing like the thing it'd been modeled after as it'd been a few moments ago. "Don't know what you're talking about. That was a thing of beauty. Who says it's impossible to kill the hydra without fire?"

"Watch your mouth!" Granny snapped from the open doorway, brandishing two more metal spatulas that looked _much _more sadistic than Anonymous. "Or were you eager to see it come back?"

Hunter gave a theatrical flinch and chuckled at the snow. "Sorry."

Brook walked up to us, bow slung over her shoulder and clipped to her magic quiver. "You know, Hunter, I do know the spell that makes my arrows explode."

"Those little firecrackers? Wouldn't have done crap," Hunter and Shay said in unison.

I nodded my agreement, bouncing from foot to foot. "Yeah. Sorry, Brook." The fire in my veins hadn't yet died.

She rolled her eyes and stalked back to her wolves, muttering something about demon stamina. Then she began to bark orders to them in their language. They yipped back and, rather than swallowing the dust, took turns grabbing buckets from the foyer and scooping up the glitter. Green poison had mixed in with the gold and white to make a soupy, steaming mixture the color of bile.

At the sight, the fire at last began to dim. The race of battle-high began to fade. Worries started coming back. My brother. Gaea. Hunter's prophecy theory that I suddenly didn't want to hear. The theory that I knew would be right. Hunter's always right.

I looked up at the sky. The stars had not come out yet, though I knew they would soon. The stars always came early in winter. The same stars that would reach LA and Orpheus's Clearing (our name for the battleground from November) and Nico, wherever he happened to be.

Fear churned in my gut. It's not that I'm a worrier, or that it was a bad situation. He did have experience alone, after all; if not in these conditions, then in ones that would prepare him to think fast.

But I couldn't shake my bad feeling.

While Shay and Hunter began to banter about whether or not other demons would have bones the same onyx color of the hydra, I turned and headed inside. My fingers twitched, as if there were a fingerboard there, but I had no song in mind. Not even _Viva la Vida._

"Nice throw," I murmured to Granny as I slipped past the threshold.

She put a hand on my shoulder, and I could feel brown eyes burning holes in my back. "Hey. You okay? Get any poison on you?"

Most people, even Hunter or Brook had I been in the mood, I'd have shrugged off. But not her. I respected her far too much for even the slightest rude remark. "No. I'm fine. Just… tired. I'm going to bed early."

Thank the gods, it was Granny, and Granny would give me my space. A knowing chuckle came from her throat. "Dinner's in thirty minutes. You want to wait, or should I send Hunter up when it's ready?"

"Neither. I'm fine without."

_That _worried her. But she said not a word as she took her hand away and I headed into the house, its groans and creaks and whispers hiding their motives from me evermore.

oOo

**Nyx: ….I have no idea where that death for the hydra came from, I swear… It just showed up…**

**Nic: *clapping hands and laughing* That was awesome!**

**Nyx: It was, but it took me by surprise. *shrugs* I like it, though. As we progress, and the series gets more intense, y'all will notice that my battle/action scenes tend to get kind of Michael Grant-ish… So yeah…**

**Nic: Michael Grant is awesome, too.**

**Nyx: That he is. That he is. (He wrote the Gone series, guys. MUST READ.) Anyway, I HAVE NEWS! **_**READ**_**:**

**Okay, so y'all know that my writing schedule is stressed. I started this story with a two-chapter head start and it's already caught up with me. This is my second method of posting. My first was just posting three chapters together on Saturday morning rather than spread out across the week. Since this first method took longer to fall and fell easier when it did, I am going to give it another shot. So there will be NO UPDATE on Thursday. Instead, the rest of this week's chapters (two) will go up on SATURDAY MORNING. Next week will be the same; nothing until Saturday, where you will find three fresh chapters waiting. We'll see how it goes and deem which schedule works better. If I can't do with either, then we'll drop to two chapters a week, but I REALLY don't want that to happen. So we're going with the three-a-Saturday for now.**

**Okay. That is all.**

**Nic: All?**

**Nyx: OH WAIT! That means I won't see y'all on Wednesday! Or on Halloween! In that case…**

**Happy Halloween, guys! Scare your friends into wetting their pants for me.**

**And for those of you who live in the U.S., happy National Candy Corn Day. It is on October 30****th****. Yes, you read correctly; we have a holiday for the least healthy of all candies. GO U.S.A.!**

11


	7. Looking Down

**DISCLAIMER: Again, we don't own PJatO or HoO. Rick Riordan does. Believe me, if we owned HoO, it'd be so different…**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Goddess-of-Battle – Nyx: I work hard to make sure Granny isn't a stereotype old lady or grandmother. In fact, she's actually based off of someone. So yeah, I hope she comes across as different. And as far as Germany's National Candy-Corn Day… Well. I don't know. America has it because we're all crazy about the least healthy of all candies. We also have a burger day, a fries day, a chocolate day, a chocolate ICE CREAM day, etc…. The list is kind of sad, actually…**

**Koryandrs – Nyx: Kolkolkol u mean the hydra? That's what came to mind when I read that. Again, yes, violence is not an odd thing for me or this story but it's not supposed to be quite so gruesome yet… Nevertheless, thanks. Things like that are always a little tricky to do details for, and it's nice to have feedback on it.**

**Emoxkitten – Nyx: Psh. Half of my reviews are merely because if I tried to have such a conversation to real people, they would walk away mid-sentence. I think I've said this before…? Anyway. I live what I love and I just get so excited. Seriously, I can even bore English teachers… It's nice to actually have a good conversation on it for once. And thanks – those last two chapters were a little hard to write.**

oOo

You'd think that one who can master the tricky art of a short sword and light feet and was trained to be nothing short of deathly cunning in a battle would manage to keep her head when she was _asleep._

No. Far from it.

Insomnia, I can handle. It's spawned from dreams and the dwindling remains of adrenaline and my own worries. Even those hours I spent, lying awake atop the covers, were nothing compared to the nightmares. In fact, that was the more restful period. Sprawled with two pillows beneath my shoulders and my head in a crooked elbow, stripped to a tank top and sweat pants in the dead of a merciless Oswego winter, sweating and feeling rather ill all of a sudden. I could even hear Hunter talking to herself from down the hall. Yes, very peaceful.

I was impatient this time, eager to see my brother. Perhaps he'd appear as a raven again. Or would he look like himself, now that I'd seen him in real life? For some reason, the idea disappointed me. Even if that'd make telling him of the snake and Shay's news and Hunter's theory all the easier.

But I didn't see Nico.

I knew I was screwed before the real horror even began. I could hear, in the background, muffled as if beneath water, a familiar voice. A broken, raspy, harsh tongue that'd been gurgling from the Phlegathon, scarred by the fires of Tartarus.

It didn't speak clearly this time, and I had the odd sensation that I wasn't meant to hear it. It had cast me aside when I'd chosen to battle Orpheus and fight The Patron rather than killing myself and saving it some sort of unmentioned pain. It wouldn't be speaking to me again soon, for benefit or for harm.

But it still spoke, and its words still felt like acid-coated knives raking up my limbs. Along arms, across sore shoulders, plunging into my chest from between the ribs in my back.

And then I realized that I wasn't standing on anything.

My arms were dangling above me, jacket snapping against its own sleeves in the wind. The bones in my neck refused to stay straight. When I moved, my whole center of balance was thrown, and I went tumbling through utter blackness.

Falling. I was falling.

Fear shot through me, a bullet in my chest blooming into a deadly poison. Gravity owned me now. No matter how I twisted, my limbs were not mine; they were pulled and pushed as if by playful kittens batting at a frightened mouse. The ground was nonexistent.

Anywhere. Everywhere. Nothing but black space and more room to fall.

In my mind, screams echoed. I heard my own. I heard Ethan's. When I opened my mouth, though, blistering heat ran down my throat and all that came out was that cursed rasp. I couldn't tell if it was a laugh or a cry.

The last thing I can recall from it is trying, desperately, grasping at strings, to fall head-first with my hands held out beneath me. Some sort of warning. My fingers disappeared into blackness as Ethan had into the clouds that day. The voice screamed again and I saw – grey – flashing across the world-

oOo

I landed, but I didn't.

Suddenly the grey reigned everything and I stood in it, on solid ground, with perfect posture and not a wrinkle in my jacket. A gentle breeze graced my face.

The voice had vanished.

As the greys began to bend and take shape, I slowly slid to the ground, sitting with my legs hugged to my chest. I swear, I could still feel the pull of the ground from miles and miles away…

"_Ciao? Pronto?_"

I looked up. The grey mass had turned into a real world now; I could see buildings thrusting in standardized rectangles up into the sky, see the faces of people marching along the sidewalks, admire the polished gleam of light on the railing I leaned against.

Behind that railing was another drop.

I yelped and scrambled to my feet, backing to the other edge of the sidewalk. The Hudson River trudged along beneath me without care.

"Hello?" Nico called again, this time in English. I hadn't been sure what language it'd been in before. It'd sounded like Latin, but…

I swallowed thickly and looked up at him. He stood there on the sidewalk, staring out into the street blankly, eyebrows furrowed. "Hello?"

"I'm here," I rasped, but no sound came out of my mouth. I flinched and waved my hand before his face.

He didn't react. "Bree? You there?"

My hand returned sullenly back to me as I realized. The truth was grim, but it was the truth; he wasn't going to know I was here. And I couldn't speak.

Couldn't admit. I'd made great progress in the three – four? – days since he and I had spoken to Ethan's ghost together. The grief had hurt a little less and didn't stir in my chest so violently. But I still looked to my right, and as that dream had just proved…

Well. It seems that my traumatized mind wouldn't be getting over the fear of heights anytime soon, whether I eventually let go of Ethan or not.

I turned and looked at the city as he called my name again. The noise of it was dulled to me, nothing but rumbles, gurgles of random sound that meant nearly nothing, save his words. I couldn't even distinguish the voices of the people who walked past.

Walked past Nico, anyway. Most went right through me. For a moment, I was worried that it hadn't been a dream, that I'd fallen, that I'd landed and died-

"I-I'm not sure you're here," Nico stammered. A man walking by gave him an odd look. "Usually I can, but this city's real trucked up. It's not…" He trailed off and stared at his feet, shuffling nervously again. His eyes were rimmed with thick bruises that the lack of sleep left.

Cotton caught in my throat. Something was wrong.

Sympathy flooded me afterwards as my heart calmed down from the fall. The city was probably just adding to his stress. Towers and people and crowds – not good, for a kid who'd been nothing but scared of others and technology his whole life.

He sighed and shook his head. "Look, if you're listening, this is a one-way connection. That's the way it works when one person's awake and the other's asleep. The waking one can't hear anything from the other and hardly can sense their presence as it is. So don't try to talk. You'll have to Iris-Message later, alright?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see, and glanced at the clouds again. They looked like the ones in Oswego that were currently dumping their load of snow.

Nico went on, ignoring the teenager that stopped to stare. "I checked Orpheus's Clearing. There's nothing there aside from the diamonds and dust Hunter left. So I came to New York next. Annabeth's on edge, but Camp's fine, and so am I. In fact, I found something. You won't like it, but I did."

From his pocket, he drew a piece of marble and held it out to a woman who just so happened to be there at the moment. She frowned and walked faster. He continued to speak to the space in which she'd stood, black marble gleaming.

My stomach lurched. I knew that marble.

"This is a chunk of marble from Mount Othrys. There are memories of it left by J- by the Hecate kid." The hasty correction sent electricity up my spine. "Someone's been both on the mountain and here. But _nobody _goes on Mount Othrys, not since the Romans toppled it. It's cursed ground guarded by the Garden and has Atlas creating noise pollution. The only reason someone would brave that mountain is if they were powerful, and if they had an allegiance to the Crooked One. Like The Patron does. And if they'd had a hand in taking Percy, then they've probably crossed here, beneath Olympus's sleeping nose. Forgot this on the way."

The teenager, now smirking, drew a phone and began to record Nico's monologue.

"My plan right now is to talk to some of the… less obvious people here. Maybe a few nymphs, if they'll put up with me. Scope around during the night and see who I can talk to. Any advice or news I can get a hold of. I'll… I'll sleep during the day and head out again at sunset. Cross the garden and take twenty-four hours on the mountain. Come back down with news of whatever I find. Don't plan to engage anything, but I'll be prepared. Something's bound to happen."

_You should probably get more sleep before you shadow travel, then,_ I thought. The bags under his eyes nearly made me attempt to say it.

He glanced behind him at the river. "Well. That's all I have. I hope… I hope you guys are alright. Be careful. And forget what I said about Oswego. It's better than… Than this place." He sent a wary glance in the Empire State Building's direction.

The people kept on walking by, oblivious or apathetic. Save the internet-bound teen.

Clearly, this was on Nico's mind, too. His eyes skimmed their faces up and down the street, took in the shadowy pillars of the skyscrapers, cocked his head at some sound I couldn't hear. Those tired eyes took on a distant look so far I opened my mouth to ask if he was okay.

"There are so many people here," he muttered. "It's all… orderly. Not like the Underworld is. The Underworld is based off common sense and basic values. This... It's crazy. Most of the buildings look crooked to me. I wonder what'd happen if they all just fell down and squished everyone like little bugs."

Well. There's Nico, for you.

The teen holding the cell phone frowned at that, as if finally noticing that this wasn't funny.

At that moment, Nico noticed him. He narrowed his black eyes and glared. Then, for just a moment, obsidian morphed into cobalt. The kid turned deathly pale. In his hands, the phone split in half. Tiny glass shards danced across his wrists and down his arms and began to dance, belittled in the grey light, along the pavement.

Nico tore his gaze away. "Anyway. Be careful. Make sure the twins know not to go slinging demon names around." Heh. "I'll call you again tomorrow; try to stay alive until then, and so will I. If anything approaches the house, kill first, and ask questions later. Talk to Hunter and let me know what she remembers of Mount Othrys…"

He said more, but even his voice began to fade. Then the world grew dark, and the ground… it vanished…

For a moment, I was scared I'd start to fall again. But no. I sank, as if through icy water, into true sleep.

oOo

So from what I understand, people don't like America's education system. Particularly the high school. It's social pyramid is mixed up, the teachers don't care like they do in college, kids are maturing faster than they used to, the curriculum isn't rigorous enough, yada yada yada.

Nobody pays attention to the middle schools.

So that's how I wound up in math class at seven in the morning while the snow still fell outside and the thermometers read negative twenty-five (negative thirty-seven with wind chill), despite the law New York State has about colder-than-negative-five weather.

Way to go, America!

Though yet again, a fair amount of disbelief probably went into it. Who'd ever take the newsman seriously when he was breaking the bad news? While he shattered impossible records?

Luckily, the city of Oswego seemed to know snow fairly well. It had been a long while (save earlier this winter) since we'd had ten feet of snow and the air became so cold your spit froze on your tongue. A long, long while. Long enough ago to make us all frantic, but no so much that we were actually helpless. Some ancient instinct in the plow drivers awakened on that grave day, and they conquered the icy roads like the true and timeless heroes that they were. Of course, the students didn't see it that way, but if you ask me… We only had today and tomorrow before Christmas break, anyway, so why not give the guys some credit?

After all, they had to get up a lot earlier than us.

I don't know if Nico was responsible for how I slept that night, or if my body had finally broken under those last dreams and decided it wouldn't wake until it was ready. Either way, I woke five minutes before the bus was due. Which meant breakfast would come from the cafeteria and Hunter was already out waiting for her own ride.

Brook complained that she'd been poking me for ten minutes and had been ready to unleash Moon's loud, howling voice. I threw on my clothes, one eye on the clock, and simultaneously explained Nico's news in rushed murmurs. The silver in her eyes gleamed brighter.

"Mount Othrys?"

"Mount Othrys," I agreed, shrugging into my jacket. The name buzzed around my skull like an eager little fly.

We mused quietly on it. I didn't mention the other dream.

School was tolerable. The air conditioners must've remembered the Ice Age, too, because they didn't struggle one bit. I actually had to remove my jacket in several rooms. Natalie was absent for the first two classes, which was one less loud voice to ignore. The teachers, knowing that half of us had skipped, didn't assign anything heavy. Not even math bothered me.

Because I had orchestra waiting just before lunch.

That was the first time I saw Natalie that day. Jake and I were in our cramped corner, focusing on our stand as the rest of the room bustled to finish tuning and finding their places. We'd figured that a warm-up wasn't bad. Since we had a test coming up, I suggested we try some sight-reading, and judging by his answer, he was in desperate need of studying. So I cracked open my book to a random page and set it before us.

When playing together ended disastrously, we took turns.

It was clear that he was far better at this than I was. His eyes didn't even move across the paper – they fixed their placid gaze in one exact place and stayed there, stayed, stayed, while his fingers rose and fell like the waves in the ocean his eyes matched and the bow moved back and forth, back and forth, slowly, even matching the slurs on his first attempt.

I was watching him when, in the background, Natalie walked in. I focused on her. When Jake plays, focusing is an easy thing to do. She strode in unaware of her jealousy-inducing soundtrack and unpacked her viola quietly. Three friends walked past and weren't spared even a glance.

A hard ball landed in my stomach. All day, I had thought of nothing but my violin and my first home. Even my worry for Nico had been succumbed by the idea of Mount Othrys's ruins being used again. I had been itching with the need to be there, to visit, to make sure the palace was resting in peace. And to chase out the intruders.

I couldn't read Natalie like I could my brother, but the idea was the same. Something was wrong.

That's when I remembered that I had wrestled with a giant panther-eagle-monstrosity right in front of her the day before. What had she called it? A bat?

Well. Don't ask me how the Mist works. I don't know. And that's exactly why, when I saw her face, that I began to doubt it.

Why had she been late? Why had she _come?_ Between that hallway being blocked off and all the snow, most kids hadn't.

I forced myself to examine her closer. No, no, I was wrong. Natalie was fine. My world hadn't just gotten my complicated. See? She still wore makeup. Her hair was done. Her clothes were crisp and she still snapped at the boy who'd stepped too close to her viola. She still sat with a straight back and a cold, regal expression in the third chair of her section.

I let out a long breath. Nothing major. No blip in reality, no mental scar. Nothing too serious. So it couldn't have been me and the gryphon.

…Could it?

During lunch, I found myself wishing Nico had taught me how to reach into dreams. It'd come up during training, but it was one of those topics that we never actually _got _around to… Oddly enough… But I couldn't, so there was no way to tell him of Shay and the hydra.

Shay. She was scouting the perimeter somewhere, knowing that the twins were in school with me. I tried to find them and had no luck.

The bell rang, and the cafeteria itself seemed to rise as we prepared to go to class. I regained custody of my stack of floppy school-things – paper, folder, this old homework sheet I'd been doodling on – and turned to follow the nearest current out the doors.

Beside me, my friend Brad scowled. "What does _she _want?"

"I don't know," Kayla said.

I frowned. "Who wants what?"

Brad motioned to the crowd and then disappeared into its deadly seas. Kayla seemed to simply vanish.

I stood, dumbfounded, until the one they'd been talking about surfaced and came to a halt before me.

Natalie's amber eyes were all but glowing. Her hair had been dyed again – a nice wood brown with a tint of red that matched those two smoldering embers. Her pink and blue binders were clutched tightly to her low-necked shirt as if she expected them to make a run for it. "Are you okay?"

I blinked. "What?"

"The pipe explosion yesterday. The bat that nobody will believe me about." She rolled her eyes and took up a position on my left. "You disappeared. You alright?"

My eyes strained to keep her in good view without turning my head. She just stood there, much like I had kept position next to Ethan mere months ago, and waited.

Too late, I realized she wanted me to answer. And to jump into the crowd. What, were we walking to class together? Were we friends now?

"Uh…" I said, leading us into the throng. I had a lie ready, of course, but how should I…? Eventually I settled for modest in the hopes that she'd abandon my soft voice. "I'm fine. Just didn't want to stand on the sidewalk for hours while the adults figured crap out."

Neither my tone nor edgy language worked. She just gave me a skeptic look and said, "Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," I sighed, "really. You?"

"You're the one the bat wanted to eat," she laughed. The sound was misplaced among the grave plains of her face. "Yeah, I'm alright."

My eyes scanned the crowd for an escape. "…Good, good…"

"I, uh, wanted to say something. My family's got a, um… A funeral to go to. We're bailing this winter wasteland and hitting Seattle for a week or so."

"Seattle. I'm from there," I said absent-mindedly, glaring at the kids before us as if that would force them to part. Come on, come on… Just long enough for us to get separated…

"I know. But I won't be at school. I'll be in _Seattle."_

Like I cared if I wouldn't see her. "Real bummer."

"Yeah. Having to stare at Isaac in his coffin – in Seattle – just can't measure up to that," she muttered in a mimicked tone.

I sighed and spared her a glance. "Sorry for the sarcasm. I'm not in a good mood."

"I noticed."

My eyes jumped along the other students' heads again. "So, you're heading to… Seattle…?"

At that moment, I saw a black pony tail bobbing among the others. And a second two moments later.

The twins!

My conversation with Natalie was forgotten. I yelped and shoved past the two kids in my way. Natalie, shocked, leapt after me. Her words became warbled by the surging of the crowd. "…Travel… Seattle… Bye!"

I managed to catch up to the two ponytails, but they swerved into a classroom at the last second, and as hard as I tried to follow them, my body was carried away by the relentless flow of hormone-filled bodies.

oOo

"Oooh. So another trick Death Breath's hiding from us," Hunter muttered, but the smile was there on her face. She let her 'magic fingers' – basically her impersonation of Bellatrix – drop and shook her head. "Big deal."

"But Mount Othrys!" Shay muttered, falling back onto the couch with a groan.

Hunter's face fell quickly. "Nothing should be there. No one but Atlas. I don't… I mean, I can't think of anything there…"

"Books," Brook declared, taking her own seat next to Moon.

"Books!" the wolf echoed eagerly. Her tail wagged when she got it right.

"Books," Hunter agreed sadly, drawing one of her father's smallest volumes from her bag and flopping into the armchair.

I opened my mouth to tell her – before she read – about the other dream, about falling, about… About blackness and fear and Ethan's screams…

No words came out. I closed my mouth and sat down.

"So," Hunter said as she flipped automatically to the page detailing werewolves. "Other news? Shay?"

Oceanus's daughter let out a long breath and closed her eyes.

"You still don't want to tell the twins?" Brook guessed.

Shay shook her head. "I don't, no. But we can't wait. As much as I'd love to give them another Christmas, it's just… No. They have to be told before something happens. Y'all are done with school tomorrow, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"Pssh," Hunter muttered. "Only if you _want _to go tomorrow."

"You're going tomorrow," Grandpa muttered, pausing from where he stood in the kitchen and raising an eyebrow in her general direction.

"I'll catch them on their way out tomorrow, then," Shay said as if they hadn't spoken. "I made sure to track where they left from today."

A heavy weight lifted off of us. It was most visible on her – she sat straighter and her lips began to twitch, just the smallest little signs. Satisfied. A decision had at last been made. Now all we had to do was see it through, and obliterate anything that got in our way.

Not unfamiliar territory for us.

"…I had a dream."

Silence fell. Hunter set her book down. Together, every head – even Moon's – swiveled to stare at Brook.

She quickly dropped her gaze to her hands. "I, uh, was killing stuff. Got lost in a cave. Started hunting again. Then something else. I forget."

"You _forget_?" Hunter asked, bewildered.

"Forgot," Moon sighed. Her ears flicked in dismissal as she slid to the ground.

Brook nodded and patted her wolf. "Yeah. It was all fuzzy, anyway. I think it's actually just from when I hunted down that mountain lion on Othrys."

We stared for a moment longer. But then her nervous fidgeting became too much to bear and we turned away to get on with the rest of our afternoon.

oOo

**Nyx: READ THIS, GUYS!**

**Some people are a little confused. There are only two chapters this Saturday, as the first for the week went up on Monday. So there's just one more chapter after this.**

'**kay. Now that's out of the way…**

**Nic: Hope y'all had a happy Halloween.**

**Nyx: Uh… I had something else to say, but it's lost…**

**Oh, well. Next chapter, then!**


	8. Icebergs

**DISCLAIMER: Guess who said no when we asked for the PJatO series?**

**Rick Riordan.**

**Jk. We didn't ask him anything.**

oOo

Thankfully, I didn't dream of falling again.

I hardly dreamed of anything. The fact should have worried me; yet, somehow, it didn't.

There was grey. Grey mist. Sometimes it morphed into a plain of bones, and that's how I knew that our connection wasn't that great. Wasn't as solid as it'd been the night before. From somewhere far off, I could hear Nico calling.

And then I woke.

I pondered for a moment what it might've meant, and what he could've possibly found on Mount Othrys. Disappointment burned heavily in my chest as I realized that he'd probably have left it by the time I slept again and that I'd missed the last possible sights of my old home. That I still didn't know how it faired. If… if something was feeding off of it, like Nico suspected. If it was alright. If it needed to be saved.

That palace had reeked of Kronos with its every inch. Stood cold and proud and maliciously almighty. Crisp and presentable save the places it didn't care nor could ever fix, those rooms where blood had been spilled and countless killed. In ways, it had been cold and cruel to me.

But it was still familiar. Still the first place that'd held any meaning to me. The first roof to witness the meaning I'd suddenly found in _myself._

An odd thought struck me then. No, of course Mount Othrys was fine. How couldn't it be?

I knew very well that it was false hope. I shrugged the thought aside and got dressed, heading downstairs quickly and raiding the cabinet for those cheap little donut sticks that come individually-wrapped in boxes. Food of the gods, those were…

Granny, Hunter, Brook, and Grandpa had seated themselves before the television. The news was on.

"Snowstorm last night?" I guessed.

"Yep," Hunter said, popping her lips. "We've got a total of eleven feet out there again, and we've still only got a two-hour delay."

"By the gods! It's only a half-day! Why not just close it?"

She threw her hands in the air. "That's what _I'm _saying!"

I took my less-than-healthy breakfast to the corner of the kitchen where I could see the television yet still remain clear of the living room's vulnerable carpet. Beneath the flustered weathergirl buried just about six feet in her panicked winter getup – apparently, the ancient traditions and winter mentality of Oswego hadn't blessed her like it did the plowmen – was a white bar. On it, blue letters scrolled by lazily.

"We're in the A's again," Brook said, squinting at the screen. "…B's… C's…"

The historic countdown was picked up by Moon. Over the racket, Hunter raised a sly eyebrow at me and said, "We should do the sacred snow-day rites."

"Superstition," Granny scoffed, a mocking smile on her face.

Hunter shrugged. "Hey, I don't know who the snow god is, but there's a shot…"

"I'm sure the whole flush-ice-cubes-down-the-toilet thing worked in Ancient Greece," Grandpa put in. "The Minoan society was where the first toilet and indoor plumbing was invented."

"Thank you, Daedalus!" Hunter crowed.

"M's!" Brook yelped excitedly. Moon reared and howled.

Behind me, footsteps sounded. Shay had decided to stay a second night in our guest room. By the sound of it, she'd slept well, or at least had until this started. Each dragging step from her was like a ringing curse. "Whass goin on?" she slurred.

"CLOSED!" Brook bellowed, and began the traditional marathon through the house with her wolves on her heels.

Shay jolted awake. "Closed?"

"Yep. Christmas break starts early this year!" I declared.

She sighed heavily and plopped down on a stool next to me. "Ugh. So that means we're on our own clock with the twins."

The matter suddenly gained about five hundred pounds. I took the second stool. "We'd get out around noon or so…"

"Not just that, but they live between two hills. There's no way they're getting their door open. I'd have to confront them in front of their step-parents if I were to say anything at all."

Well. There's no faster way to sink a ship. Too heavy, the subject sank beneath waves and sent nothing but a few lonely bubbles back up to pop on the surface amid the awkward silence.

"Their parents have a right to know, anyway," Granny said, glancing at us. "Just because they'll be there doesn't mean you can't go."

Shay shuffled nervously. "That might be true…"

The reluctance in her voice rang louder than a tornado siren. Shay hadn't grown up with her mortal mother; all she'd known was her father, who'd left her in favor of serving Kronos as soon as he'd gotten the chance. And she'd been utterly alone since. Not exactly Nico's story, but strong nonetheless. The adults just simply weren't to be trusted.

Besides. It was just two more people to crush.

Two more _humans._

_Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Smith! Sorry, but the orphanage got your adoption papers wrong. These two aren't human. They have to march off into war now. We'll send you a postcard from wherever the demons drag us off to!_

Yeah. That'd go over great. If they didn't reject the twins entirely. Or, you know, throw us into an insane asylum.

I tried to imagine my own induction to this giant, lovely, magical, tragedy of a world. It was not hard. Mount Othrys had been proud and tall and powerful in the most unforgettable of ways back then; the marble columns stood with righteous authority and loftiness, the fires flickered with a grim sense of duty, the shadows crept along in their timely fashions and oversaw every little piece. That palace…

Kronos. Golden eyes. Straight from the start, demigods were the outcasts of whom? The rejects of what? The discarded side-effects of what favorite pastime? Always against the Olympians, even from then.

There had been Ethan. What was he'd said that day… It struck me hard, right then.

He'd said that we fight just to find another fight. Fight to fight. Not to live, but to experience the next battle, because even a victor might not live longer than a moment. We just go on and on and on in this short circle that was more like a dot until one day our luck ran out and we were to hope the judges were in a good mood.

Just fight to fight. Fight to fight.

I swallowed thickly and stared at the floor. Ethan had not housed hope, nor much life himself. He was not Shay. But I could tell now that they had the same thing in mind in a moment like that.

But Shay was Shay. Shay was hope. I waited for her to say something sarcastically optimistic, but not a word was uttered. The ship hit the sandy bottom of the ocean and stayed there under the heavy, sluggish, dark waters.

"Something has to be done," Hunter said loudly. "I'd recommend talking to all four of them. Though it might be hard to convince anyone of anything without evidence."

"Mist," I reminded her.

"Yeah, well. Work around it. Luna and Haley think they're human, and they're what – thirteen? Which means they're still kids. They're not like Bree or Brook or me. You can't just talk to them and leave that decision, whether or not to spill, entirely on their minds. They aren't demigods yet."

The ship was crumpling under the sea's pressure now. Great gods of Olympus, no, they weren't demigods, and we couldn't break this to them…

I grit my teeth and shook my head. No. Shay had been stuck at that block for a week; none of us could afford a moment more stalling in its shadow. "You're right. We've got to try something. Someone… Someone's going to get killed if we don't."

Shay sighed and nodded. "…Alright. Alright. Give me an hour or two to get ready."

"Cool," Hunter said, getting off the couch. "You want us to come?"

"No. I can manage alone; the snow's nothing but water. And it might be less overwhelming if only _one _inhuman thing showed up at their door."

Hunter chuckled darkly. "Damn straight. So we'll stay."

"Nobody thinks of you as inhuman," Granny argued.

"Granny, most people don't even see us as demigods. There's Nico, Shay, and… Oh, no, that sums it up."

"I can concur with that," I offered, raising my donut stick. "Besides, these guys don't even know demons exist. They're just as likely to see us as Kindly Ones as they are to see us as insane."

Granny sighed heavily. There was something in her eyes, hard as stone and bright as the sun, but she held her lips shut and didn't reveal it.

Shay groaned and let her face crack into the smallest smile. "So. What's Nico's latest news?"

"Nothing," I muttered. "Couldn't make out what he was saying, or even see the ruins."

"That might be for the best, sweetie," Granny soothed with her eyes still locked on the news. "Some things…"

I sighed and hung my head. "Anyway. So I don't know anything."

"We should Iris-Message him," Shay murmured. "Do you think-"

"No."

We turned. Brook had finished her victory laps and was standing in the kitchen, Moon and Night at her feet. Her silver eyes had turned the bleak and forbidding grey of storm clouds ready to pour all the pressure crushing that boat down onto the land but managed to hold back just long enough to see what they'd destroy. "You can't," she said, "contact him. He's in stealth mode. Wait until he calls one of us – that way, we won't blow his cover or anything. We'd get him killed if we tried."

The thought set my heart beating. Not even just that Nico might die – though that fact caused me guilt – but that Mount Othrys really could be haunted by something. By someone. Feeding off it in some sort of sick, magic-style necrophilia.

Though if that were the case, you'd bet your life that Nico would take payment for such a crime. Ruins or person or even ideas. I hoped he still had the energy to get mad at whatever he found up there.

I hoped, prayed, begged.

"On the matter of dreams," Hunter said, "Brook?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. It's gone."

Gone. Just like my own nightmare of falling. Just like my contact with Nico.

If anyone saw the look on my face, they didn't point it out.

oOo

There is a saying. Don't know who said it. I should, I really should – stupid, stupid! – but I don't. It goes something like, "We are all products of our childhood."

Well. How much will and force the soul holds against an upbringing is not something I'll discuss openly. Plead the fifth, whatever. Have that debate on your own time. But I will say this; I believe that statement to be true, at least to a degree.

So how was I, then?

Well, it had started and ended with-

_No. No, no, no. Don't go down that road, Nico. You'll wind up wearing a necklace of rope and dangling like a little dog from a leash on one of these old poles. A little dog lifted off the ground and strangled, dragged, scraped and torn because the other end of the leash just picked up and ran faster than he could follow._

_ That'd be an interesting obit, actually…_

I sighed and lifted my head to the breeze, letting the cold air wash over me and bite through my jacket and raise goose bumps from their resting places. The splash of coolness was welcome. It was warmer than what I felt inside.

My over-active senses (as they tend to get this time of year) buzzed angrily at me, though, millions of little alarms begging for my attention every moment. I shoved them aside and peeled myself off the column I'd been leaning on.

And on I walked, broken marble crunching beneath my feet.

Mount Tam was cold. Very cold. The Mountain of Despair, it'd been called. And Despair favors no one, the white or the black or the grey. Not even when Othrys was concerned. The palace was nothing but a carpet of veined black stones and snuffed torches. Now and then, a few things appeared in the rubble. Things so mundane it made me laugh. A squished pillow. Perhaps a blanket. A shattered mirror. A can of squirt cheese.

Strewn around like bodies amid the chaos of a battle, they peeked at me from the ruins, shy and timid. Animals scared into burrows.

This place had been broken. Despair had torn it apart. The air hung heavy and grey and freezing and snow had begun to fall again since Kronos wasn't here to stop it and snow it did, heavily, coating the graveyard in a thick white blanket.

The magic here was gone.

There was no questioning it. Kronos had been obliterated, his consciousness scattered through Tartarus and spread so thin it'd be several thousand years before he could even form a single thought. And yes, while other Titans might be alive (like Hecate or Prometheus or even Iapetus), his palace could not survive without him. The Titans were finished.

Any heat that was left came from Atlas's head. And the amount of warm breath that he spilled into the air. Little white puffs came from his lips along with his spouts of curse words. I ignored him and kept searching.

My mind moved on. Wandered. I kept it carefully locked, away from my senses, away from the few memories I could sense here – nothing like the one on what I'd found in New York – that were dull, and away from the nightmares. I constantly bit my tongue or pinched my arm to stay awake. I had pushed my luck, with so little sleep; yet I'd had to. Had to. No option.

It was so damn cowardly, but I ran from the nightmares.

Horrible guilt and loathing shot through me at that. _Coward. Incapable. Little._

But that was part of the road I couldn't go down. Not now. Not this time of year. I shoved it aside and decided it was best to settle down for breakfast.

…Breakfast?!

I whirled to the east. There, a perfectly round disk had been extricated completely from the horizon. Cold light was filtering through the smoky clouds.

My stomach clenched. What was it by now? Nine? Ten? Which meant… One or two in Oswego.

And I still hadn't heard anything from Bree.

Now, this, I was entitled to worry about. Even if the connections had been unstable and there was a chance she hadn't heard me. I was alone, and while it was nice to finally have peace, it meant I wasn't with them. And anything could happen during that time. It shouldn't have bothered me quite so much, but it did. Perhaps I still saw Bree a little too much as…

_No. Not that name. Not now._

Oh, what I'd give to have Phil screaming at me right then. Screw the logic. I'd embrace madness happily so long he kept me in line.

I swallowed thickly and shook my head. No. Bree and Hunter were on home turf. And they would both die before so much as a scratch touched Brook's skin. So they had to be alright. I'd sense it if they were dead, anyway.

Or if they'd been captured…

Maybe that's why. I'd begged her just hours ago to send a message to me. An update. Hermes Express was still down, but Iris had resumed delivering communication. Perhaps she really hadn't heard, or she misunderstood, or was captured, or was wounded and bleeding to death in a ditch somewhere. I had no way of knowing.

Worrying was painful, but it was a good distraction from my Dead End street. And Dead End street was a bigger problem at the moment.

So I worried.

Yet I couldn't get off this mountain to check on them. I decided that I'd do that when I got down past that garden come sunrise – until then, I'd investigate these ruins, and again, and again, finding nothing each time. To stay awake. To distract. To worry. I'd stop in New York to tell Annabeth that I'd found nothing. Perhaps a party of several (she had told me I'd come alone because I could sense memories, but we both knew it was because I was fast) would do better. Then I'd make sure Bree and her sisters were alright. Then I'd be on my own again.

Dead End street would be closing soon, anyway. I could fight through the rest of it.

So I shut Atlas out of my mind and searched the empty remains again and again, watching the sun pass by above. Avoiding sleep and the nightmares it'd only laugh at. The things that'd please Atlas.

_Coward. Incapable. Little._

Once upon a time.

For a moment, I took a forbidden peak down Dead End street, and I saw. So many times, I swear, I had felt Bianca's footsteps beside mine. Even when I'd run from Laelaps, a part of her had thrived. She lived on inside like she promised she would.

But she was dead. No changing that. And her footsteps were not there now.

_Coward. Incapable. Little._

_ Alone._

oOo

I don't think we were surprised when it happened.

The ship just sank fully into the sand, nothing but flattened steal. Some of it had even dissolved into a soupy paste and risen among our minds, clouding our thoughts, numbing us to the cold and horrible freeze of the water.

My sisters and I – plus Moon – had been sitting on our roof, playing Scenario. The storm clouds had gathered from above the lake around two in the afternoon. Classic Oswego snow, of course. We had stayed out as long as we could, even when the white flurries began to fall down over the East Side and a pasty blanket covered the buildings like the blessing of gentle fingers. Then the wind had picked up. The snow fell harder. Irate swirls of it came raining down above the river.

"We should head inside," Hunter muttered. "Who wants hot chocolate?"

All in all, even as hard as it was, I was so glad she hadn't spoken sooner. If she did, we'd have been inside, and missed it.

Lightning.

It struck up from the ground and rocketed into the clouds. Two more followed in what appeared to be the same place. Around that spot, the clouds had gone from grey to black.

Silence fell over us. That was when the ship was crushed into the sand.

Then I grabbed their hands and ran.

Anonymous and the bow were drawn as soon as we dropped out of the shadows on the edge of the yard, and Întuneric had been wielded on the run. No more lightning streaks came up or down. Above us, the black clouds swirled.

Our weapons dropped when we saw the house.

It stood like a skeleton. Blackened and weak, leaning to one side, walls stripped away. Charcoaled wood in a hollow frame. Some charred remains of furniture were left on the ground floor. Ash had fallen atop it and coated the once-decorative carpet. Shards of shattered glass, bits of it even melted and bubbling, lay on the snow in a gleaming shell. In the yard lay a torn and deflated soccer ball with burn marks on the edges.

That was all.

No Shay. No set of twins. No step-parents. Not even a picture to remember them by.

Just the ball and shell and skeleton amid ash. Its own guts turned to powder. Like one of those crabs Hunter and I would find in Seattle – the seagulls hunted them relentlessly and would make a mess similar to this.

That was when the soup rose. When mist clouded our eyes and our noses so that we couldn't cry and couldn't smell the ozone or frost. When it numbed our skin so we couldn't touch the remains even if we'd tried. The only thing I was aware of was the lightening sky as the blackness faded.

"It was Venti," Hunter said flatly, staring at the carnage.

I recalled the lightning, saw the cauterized house. Up in one far corner of that midnight frame, I saw wires sparking with electricity, a shower of little white streaks.

"It was Venti," she repeated coldly.

We were too numb to ask if we should've been there. Too numb to care. Somewhere, though, we heard a police siren and knew it was time to bail.

It was a short good-bye, but it was something.

The whole way home, that soup did not lift. It stayed as a heavy murk, lingering over us, pressing down. Making us numb. Forcing us to fight for each and every breath.

Hunter managed to fume, but that was about it. Furrowed eyebrows and a scowl. The only words she could scrape from her mind, though, were the familiar three. She chanted it with religious hate all the way home.

"It was Venti. It was Venti. It was Venti."

oOo

**Nyx: Eh? Thoughts?**

**Nic: O.O …**

**Nyx: I remembered what I needed to say. One, I was lazy this morning and got a shower before deciding it was time to update. I apologize for the wait. Two, as you may have noticed, Nico wasn't too well-written in Rejects. He'll be much better in this one. As you can probably see. I don't know what it was – he was fine in my rough drafts, has always been the easiest to write – but nevertheless he's recovering from Rejects now. It'll be alright.**

**Nic: I'm not talking to you, Nyx.**

**Nyx: Please review, guys! Three chapters will next go up Saturday morn, as promised. Thanks to all our readers, infinitely!**

**Oh. And I just read **_**Misery**_** by Stephen King. READ IT, GUYS! Even if you hate horror and hate Stephen King, read it for Paul. He's the protagonist and he's a writer and there's no faster way to get inspired or excited or so pumped up with epicness. Kolkolkol…**

**Nic: Still not talking.**

**Nyx: Happy weekend, guys!**

**Nic: *stony silence***

10


	9. Oxymorons

**DISCLAIMER: Guess who's the one (in our opinion) tanking the HoO series?**

**Rick Riordan. Really, after PJatO, we feel truly and utterly bewildered….**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Goddess-of-Battle – Nyx: Having been to New York City a few times myself, I can tell you that no, I never saw the stereotyped crazy person walking around with a cart and muttering under their breath. But I did hear some pretty awkward out-of-context snippets. Nor do I like cities very much; like Nico, I find the order unnatural and eerie, and the buildings too tall, the people walking around purposefully but with blank looks that seem the opposite. As far as the weather… Well… *creepy smile* Coincidence? I THINK NOT!**

**Lara of Hecate – Nyx: Hey, we killed Ethan, we're hysterical fans of Gone, Hunger Games, and Stephen King, and do enjoy action movies/books quite a lot. We are not afraid to do it nor squeamish about the means.**

**Emoxkitten – Nyx: Hope you feel better.**

**Koryandrs – Nyx: Thanks.**

oOo

"They're not dead."

Hunter sighed heavily, quit pacing, and held her hand out sharply. "I know, Bree. I know. You've said it twenty-three times already."

I scowled at her defiant fingers. "And you still don't believe it. They're not dead."

"The _hell _I believe you! Shut up and let me think!"

"You think I'd make that mistake, after the fight with Orpheus?"

"Guys," Brook said softly. "Screaming isn't going to help."

A groan escaped Hunter as she plopped down onto my bed. "right. Right. Let's calm down."

Calm. We _were _calm. Too calm. At least, that's how it felt inside. Calm as the sea, settled as the thick soup that'd finally come to rest with the wreckage of the ship. Sincerely, horridly calm. It was heavy and dark and had a startlingly sobering effect to my world. Things were utterly real to me now; every problem, every feeling, every fear. I felt that for the first time in a while, I could reach out to Brook, to my bed, to the wall and the nightstand and the glass and the writhing snowstorm outside and find them actually, truly _there._

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back so that it thunked on the headboard – it was hard, there, real, even made a banging sound against the wall – and took a deep breath.

_Calm. Calm. I'm calm. Next matter of business:_

_ What happened?_

I glanced nervously at the empty air to my right for help. What had happened? Someone had known Shay wasn't with us. Someone had seen her sitting between two clueless souls and oblivious parents, known that those people weren't of help, and taken advantage.

My thoughts stopped there.

"They're not just taking the powerful," Brook whispered. "Not just Percy or Jason. They're picking us all off one by one."

"That doesn't make sense," Hunter muttered, gazing out the window. "Plucking Percy and Jason straight from their camps is not _picking one by one._ That took stealth, skill, and a whole lot of risk."

"It's called prioritizing," Brook argued. "Get the leaders out of the way, then…" She made to slice her head off with a hand.

"That doesn't make sense, either. If you want us all, then you start by taking the isolated and scattered rejects first, then slowly get bolder, and by the time we all know we must stick together it's too late. Raising suspicion wasn't in the enemy interest."

"Pack hunt," Moon snarled, "from discard-edge only when pack hunt little and few." Brook nodded in approval.

I sighed. "Guys, I think Hunter's right. Shay and the twins must've been wanted specifically, but just for a different reason than Percy or Jason."

Brook considered. "A different, unique reason? Yeah, that'd work…"

Hunter seethed and spat on the floor. "But _why?"_

Nobody, not even the space to my right, had an answer for that.

"We know The Patron wanted Shay for _something,"_ Brook mumbled. "Whatever it was for, the whole thing was pre-meditated."

That was our only hint. We grasped at it desperately like a pendulum clings to its cord as it swings back and forth, back and forth, over an abyss. But we knew it wasn't enough. That very cord would be our undoing – Gaea was as sly and manipulative and cunning as Kronos had been, and after the stunt with the stars, we all knew better than to think we'd understand or foresee her plans. All we _ever _knew was that those plans were amazingly intricate.

Silence hung for seconds. Minutes.

Hours.

"We should tell Annabeth," Hunter sighed. "And Nico, as soon as the sun goes down."

"I'd hold on the last one," Brook warned. "If he misses the sunset, he'll be stuck on Othrys and can't leave for another day. If he's there and you call, we'll blow it. Wait until he calls for Bree first."

The thought sent another too-real spike of dread up my throat. Mount Othrys possessed and my brother trapped.

Hunter sighed and stood, striding into the bathroom. The hot water from the tub made a roaring noise through the open doors. Several times, we heard her struggling with the blinds, before cursing them and grabbing a flashlight from beneath the cabinet.

Brook sighed. "I wonder what the humans will think of that mess."

"Phoenix," came my immediate answer. "Ever seen one of those?"

"You're not talking about the giant flaming bird that is reborn of ashes, are you?"

"Yes, I am. It was a Hellenistic creature. The Christians stole it from the Greeks and adopted it as one of their major, like, symbol things." I paused. "That'd be pretty great right now. Shay and them rising from that mess of ashes."

"But the phoenix is a fire-bird. Shay's water."

We fell silent again.

Hunter came back a moment later. "Annabeth was busy retrieving demigods from the Grand Canyon. So I told Chiron."

"What'd the horse-man say?" I asked curiously. Chiron, we'd only met once, and it had been when Kronos smashed him through a wall.

She shrugged. "He was concerned. Nice, for an old guy who has reason to hate us."

"Did he have any idea what to _make of it,_ though?" Brook inquired.

"No."

"Nico might know something," I said, more of just trying to enforce the idea that he'd be free and able to explain it soon.

Hunter gave me a look, the gold in her eyes so sure and still so crushingly real. "I'm sure he does."

The way she said it made me squirm.

Brook glanced at the window. "It's after four, guys. And it's the dead of winter. The sun'll be setting real soon. If you want optimal dream-time, Bree, you ought to go to bed now."

I muttered about how I owed insomnia nothing, especially not the hours I spent entertaining it, but nodded. "Fine. Y'all leave, then. I'll try and fall asleep."

Though I was much too calm for that.

Brook nodded and left the room, ushering the oddly-silent Moon behind her. Hunter watched them go with heavy golden eyes.

I glanced between her and the open door. "…If you wanted to explain your prophecy theory at some point… I'm ready to hear it now."

She jumped, as if she'd been somewhere else, and blinked at me. "What… Oh. You should…" She trailed off and glanced at the wall. "You should talk to Nico first. Get him to explain what you can. I'll fill you in once we have whatever knowledge he's willing to share."

"You make it sound like he knows everything."

"Perhaps he does."

The calm began to melt slowly, cowed in the rising heat of anger. "Hunter, he's not-"

"Not one of us, right. So be careful how much trust you put in him. Of the last two people we decided to trust like that, one was a murderer, and the other… The other was Ethan." She stood abruptly and, with that, slammed the door as she left.

oOo

So five minutes later, Brook came in to correct herself.

"In a little bit, it'll be sunset _here _– it'll be three more hours before it sets on Mount Tam. Sorry."

I scowled. It wasn't like her to be wrong – something was bothering her, and when I asked, she'd merely said it was nothing.

Liar.

Determined to hold onto my air of placidity, I grabbed a mug of hot chocolate and retreated to my room. Off went the lights, out went Sylvester, and on came nature's soundtrack. Outside, the wind howled and whistled. Now and then my window would bang angrily against its frame. First the dying sun and then the streetlights highlighted the snow that swirled past in wriggling mobs. Dang, it sure was coming down heavy tonight.

Like we didn't have enough.

The hot chocolate stayed warm in my hands. Granny hadn't seen me take it up here; for once, luck seemed in my favor, and not once did she come to confiscate it. Its rich and sweet flavor was rather enjoyable. Perhaps the temperature and the thickness of the warm milk made it that way; usually, I couldn't stand chocolate sweets. Fruit candies, sure. Chocolate? No.

The marshmallows might've had something to do with it, too.

Night settled down on the city quickly. Doors stayed shut and people stayed in as the snow came bearing down on us to clog the streets and jam our doors once more. Lights were on in many places. The stars were snuffed out by our smog and photon ambience. And quiet, wonderful quiet, brushed houses and floated down streets and flew gently overhead like the feathers of angels themselves.

It wasn't so bad, Oswego winter nights.

Normally, I'd have been observing this spectacle with my sisters and grandparents. We'd all huddle in the living room, cramped on the floor, with a board came or a movie. And every single one of us would have a cup of hot chocolate like this one here. In fact, that was probably what they were doing as I sat alone in my room.

But I took pleasure in being alone, and for the most part, they would respect that. They knew that I needed space now and then.

Especially _now._ When Brook was lying and Hunter seething. And my brother being an idiot. My unnaturally strong fear for him was coming on again as the darkness settled over the house.

But of course. When Brook lies, the impossible happens. So all this, all those weird things, made sense to me.

Eventually, my eyelids began to droop.

I finished off the hot chocolate and set it aside. The mug was still warm in my palms. Reluctantly, I let it go, and curled up beneath the covers.

I fell asleep to my worry – Brook, Nico, poor Shay – and the sounds of the storm outside.

oOo

I fell again.

It was so short. I had hardly a moment to feel weightless before something took over. Fire erupted from somewhere – blazing, righteous fire – and ripped my bleak surroundings to shreds. Gravity found balance once more as my feet were placed on solid rock.

_Familiar _solid rock…

"Sis!"

I looked up. Before me, down a narrow path guarded on one side by cliff face and the other by bushes, was Nico.

His appearance was alarming. The shadows beneath his eyes were too solid to be that now; they were like black rocks tied to his face. And if his jacket was to be trusted, then what meager moments of sleep he _had _managed were spent in a ditch. Black mobs of hair were not merely unkempt now but knotted in mats and sticking up wildly. Shadows from the mob of shrubbery cast tattered, sinister streaks across him. The ADHD part of me wanted to paint on a Jeff the Killer smile to complete the look. The rest of me was ready to strangle ADHD.

I watched as he lifted a tentative hand, eyes locked on mine, and then let it drop. Those eyes closed and he let out a long breath. "Are you guys okay?"

The answer made me flinch. It reminded me just how right my pessimistic views were, and that he was out here alone, just like Shay had been…

A dark veil covered his opening eyes. He didn't speak.

Eventually I just shrugged, because that seemed to convey the whole clueless _what the hell_ part of it.

He shook his head and said, "Well. I wasn't sure I was reaching you until now, but I've been asking for an IM. Give me one when you wake up, 'kay? You'll have to explain it then. The connection between a conscious and sleeping person isn't strong enough for me to hear anything you try to say."

Then, as if he could read the question on my face, he added, "No, this isn't the same way you reached me last year during the Titan War. Or how I contacted you in early August. You'd find my mind while I was sleeping. Or, once, you caused me to black out. Wasn't all that nice."

Well. Like I'd known any better. If he was hoping I'd apologize, then he was in for a shock, (though Nico knew me better by then). At the very, very most, I managed to restrain my finger and just show him my tongue instead.

He rolled his eyes. "Anyway. Take a look behind you."

The way he said it sent ice up my spine. I turned slowly, eyes on the floor, until I was ready to look up.

My first thought was of ice cream.

Crumbled pieces of marble cascaded down the mountain peak like sprinkles on a scoop of grey, dirt-flavored sundae. The proud pillars had been twisted, tortured, and tormented before being cast to the floor to expire and rot. The spilled insides – as gruesome as it'd have been if they were human – of the stone was dull and grainy. The lustrous shine to its slick and veined black surface had been diminished like the eyes of a corpse. Among the pillars and shattered walls were other odd things – I saw some armor, a broken weapon or two. To the right, the swirling black clouds seemed to touch the peak. Must've been Atlas's courtyard. Red light from the low sun made half of it red like blood and the rest dark in shadow, like the strips that the trees had cast on Nico.

The courtyard my sisters and I had arrived in.

As if that wasn't enough, my eye also happened to spot several broken tables on a cliff closer to the left. _Lots _of broken tables, all pressed up against each other, as if someone had tried to create one large banquet area when they'd been interrupted by an avalanche.

Tears came to my eyes. At the sight of the cafeteria, the memories truly broke loose; the demons and their meals (always my first thought upon the place's mention), Ethan's curt conversations, days spent plotting, the dark-haired boy, Celeste and Brianna, plates of stroganoff, gossips on quest results, Herald's honeyed tongue, heaps of pancakes, Kronos's inspiring speeches, that one time Hunter glued him to his chair-

"It didn't look like this when you stayed, did it?"

I shook my head. Nearby, marking the caved-in entrance to the destroyed labyrinth, a single black wall burst from the decay and raised its defiant self into the sky at about the height of a semi truck. The Black Wall.

Determined to be sarcastic, I pointed to it and gave him a look. _His _turn to apologize.

"Hey, I only brought down that section there. The _rest _looks different, right?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Well. Obviously, the only one here is Atlas. Not sure if you can hear him, but he's cussing us both right now. He knows you're here. Aside from that, this place is deserted. Which leaves me with two options."

I turned back to him fully, back to the shady trees and the red mess of light that lit up every stray hair on his head and the black marks beneath his eyes. He held up a hand for clarification.

"One, I search San Francisco. It's just down the mountain. I _know _there's still a lead here. Marble doesn't get up and fly across a country, and it's not a coincidence that one piece landed by Olympus. Even if no one's here now, someone _was,_ and they had a reason for it and for being in New York. I need to find out what that reason is. So I'll just trek down this path, find myself a graveyard in the city, ask around, do some typical investigation work. Someone's bound to know something."

He sent a weary glance at the trees, and the red light that painted the edges of the leaves. "It's getting late. I have to cross the garden soon. Think we can maintain a connection while we walk?"

I shrugged and started down the path.

He followed and overtook me, weaving around large stones or potentially dangerous dips and slopes. I took one look at the drop off beyond the bushes and decided it was best to step in the exact places he did.

As we walked, he went on. "My second option is to shadow travel to Oswego and help y'all out with whatever problem's surfaced there. I've been meaning to travel east for a few days, anyway. And if I'm needed… I mean, not like Annabeth doesn't need me _here,_ but…"

I cast a nervous glance at the thinning bushes. The cliff edge was very visible now. I clung to the rock face and followed Nico closely as he spoke.

"Like… I… I can prioritize," he managed. "S'not like I haven't done that before."

The bitter tone felt like a thorn in my palm. I glanced at him, worried all over again, knowing something was wrong. It was in his eyes and his footsteps and that mess of hair. No, Nico wasn't exactly Hunter, but he refused to cut it and understood that that meant he had to keep it from getting too tangled…

He stopped and glanced at me. "How badly to you guys need help?"

He didn't ask if he'd be of any use. Just if we needed someone.

I shook my head. There was nothing he could do for Shay, no more than Hunter or lying Brook or me or even Teddy and Ozzy. And by the looks of things, he needed our help just as much.

As if my mood wasn't crappy enough.

"Don't lie to me," he spat. "If you can't handle it on your own, tell me, because I'm not going to stand by while something goes wrong ag-"

He cut himself off sharply and glanced to the side.

But the word was there. _Again._

He never meant to cause me guilt, I knew. But it was hard not to feel it. I knew who I resembled; I knew what I did to him; and I didn't know the half of the memories I brought back. I had no right to feel guilty and he had no right to play that card, even subconsciously, but we did it nonetheless.

He insisted, actually, that it wasn't me. What I did manage to resurface he didn't mind. It's not like he was going to forget Bianca, anyway. Even if he'd quit barking up that lofty, desolate tree years ago.

But yet again, it seemed to me that this was what happened despite what he said.

Perhaps I'm just selfish and conceited. I guess that thought could have occurred for anyone. But I knew him too well to miss the pain in his voice, and I was still one-fourth human, and it was impossible not to regret that.

I offered my best apologetic smile. He saw it and scowled. "I'm serious. Don't lie."

At least the pain had vanished. I pointed sharply down the path.

"Are you sure?" he asked, slowly beginning to walk again. There was a corner approaching quickly nonetheless. The way it hid the edge made me nervous.

I nodded, though, and followed as we turned it.

A gasp nearly escaped me at the sight. Screw hiding the edge – at that curve, the edge was thrown out, so that we faced a grassy plain the size of a football field. The drop was once more adorned with trees. These were beautiful – pink cherry blossoms gleamed in the scarlet light, a few crimson and green apples were beaming, and at their feet flowers were staring in awe at the appearing stars. A black marble path ran through the lush and gleaming silver grass. A white mist – like vaporized blood in the sunset – hung thickly in the air. In fact, I was positive that the garden was much bigger, but we couldn't see any of it for that bleeding mist.

Then, from the garden's depths, came hissing.

It had a sick musical quality to it. My first thought was of Orpheus; he had made wonderful songs come cracking and screaming and tearing through the air, twisted them until the very sounds themselves had sunk into irrevocable lunacy, and still managed to hit the right notes.

But this wasn't insane. It was just angry. And angry I could handle.

Simultaneously, four girls rose from hiding places among the thriving bushes, each wearing what one could easily find any respectable woman from Ancient Greece in. They had smooth skin like caramel and heavy hair black like ink that fell across their shoulders in shining streams. Nails had been painted and glossed the color of raven's feathers to match their eyes. The _whole _eye – from lid to lid and corner to corner was the color of obsidian in a cave at midnight.

They just stared and hissed their song. They didn't move.

"What," Nico called, "you're not gonna stop me this time?"

One of the girls – who looked about sixteen, as the immortal Hesperides do – raised a hand and pointed at him. "We have no wish to stop thee. How has the thought struck thy mind?" Behind her, the mist had begun to retreat.

He spat on the ground. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the _cross our garden and thee will die_ threat you gave me twenty-four hours ago."

The Hesperid glanced at the sunset. "What does he speak of, sisters? I know not."

Her sisters shrugged hopelessly.

A bitter taste leaked onto my tongue.

She smiled at Nico again. "Son of Hades, please do cross. There is not much time left before this gateway closes. If thy wishes to descend the mountain, it must be now."

Nico narrowed his eyes and drew his sword. Slowly, holding it out before him, he took a step onto the marble path. "…I think I will. Try anything funny, and I'll kill every plant in this place."

"We know thy would," a second sister muttered. The mist was backing further and further away from each word. I could see now where the marble path split – it made to wrap around something…

Nico advanced into the garden slowly, weapon raised, eyes glowing cobalt. He stalked on with the grace of a cat even in his haggard state. Tension snapped in the air between him and the sisters.

The mist retreated from him, revealing wood between the two paths…

What laid there in the center of the garden was enough to make even Nico freeze in his tracks and gawk.

The tree had to have been several stories tall. On its branches gleamed delectable-looking apples that shined a brilliant and pure gold. The apples of immortality, supposedly, that Zeus had given to Hera as a wedding gift and then for gods-know what reason plopped it here before Atlas's prison and amid that Titan's children. Yet something emanated from them that reminded more of the Tree of Good and Evil than the tree of _immortality…_

Well. Almost. I don't think either tree should have been cut down.

Its branches were a limp mess of broken wood and splattered golden fruit, a bloody massacre amid the garden of beauty. A body strewn and dismembered.

I was staring at the tree. Nico was, too, and probably concentrating too hard to keep the dream-connection going. So neither of us really registered anything until it was too late.

And I mean that; the dragon heads lunging at us both was the last thing I saw.

oOo

**Nyx: So I got real internet now. Not the slow, limited, overpriced Satellite stuff I'd been using before. It's faster and unlimited and costs less than half as much. So it's a very real possibility that soon, I'll have a DA account. Perhaps a YT in the future.**

**Nic: Gonna show them your projects?**

**Nyx: Yes. Yes I am. Speaking of such, the cover… Has half a layout. I'm working on it, guys. But it should be fast to do once it's made. It's designed like that.**

**Nic: Should we keep blabbing, or do you think we've dragged out this cliff hanger long enough?**

**Nyx: Hm… Lemme think…**

**Nic: *eye roll***


	10. OCD

**DISCLAIMER: So we don't really own PJatO or HoO. I know. Shocker. Turns out, this guy named Rick Riordan does.**

oOo

I jumped so hard my head rammed itself once again into the too-real headboard.

Thunder clapped outside as my eyes opened on darkened ceiling. For a moment, the howls of the wind were challenged by it, and then it faded and the swirls of snow out the window screamed of their victory. The window banged and barked constantly against the frame.

Shadows had smothered everything. It was still night.

The dare to hope made my adrenalized heart beat even faster as I flung myself out of bed and whipped the door open. I skipped most of the steps on the stairwell and bolted into the kitchen. From there, I ripped open a cabinet, stuffed some cans and water bottles into two spare grocery bags we left lying around, and then pounced on a pen.

I didn't bother to find paper. As I scrawled on the table, I saw the end of the nightmare again – the shattered tree, the broken limbs and squished precious fruit, Nico's look of utter shock. The dragon. Two heads matching the python-shaped noggin of the winged drakon but coated in shimmering copper scales and with equal-sized sharp teeth lining its lips, much like the hydra. Poison dripping from each fang. Yes, yes, I could see it clearly now. The way the sun and moon had both glared off those penny scales and the beady eyes and highlighted the perfect curve of each triangular tooth and glimmered and shone with the glory of empires on the festering drips of poison. Two came at me. Another three at Nico. They sat atop coiling and thrusting necks as long as flagpoles that reached across from wherever the thing had been hiding.

I saw him turn, sword raised to parry, eyes flashing from deadbeat shock to the fury of a predator. Then the dragon head had cut of my view and I'd woken.

Too close to call.

My own blistering rage rose in my throat, my own storm beneath the wails of the Oswego snow. The pen's markings became sharp and dented into the table.

I was sick of this. Sick of war. Of things beyond my control. I'd sat by and waited for Reyna to show up and played games when she did. I'd watched Hunter struggle with thoughts and Brook lie to my face. I'd seen the lightning of smoky angel-looking demons as they took Shay and four innocent people. I'd stared dumbly at the aftermath. I'd seen my brother stumble over some problem he wouldn't admit to me when it was obviously beyond the normal stuff I knew he could handle.

You know what Gaea and the Fates could do with their diseased plans? Shove 'em – I wasn't about to put up with another 'unfortunate event'. Not another capture, not another insult, not another complicated game, not another sadistic trick, not another cruel threat, not another war, and _certainly_ not another death.

The note read in Latin;

_Nico's in trouble. No time. I've gone after him._

_Don't panic. We'll IM as soon as we get the chance. Don't come after me; anything to be found on Shay and the twins needs to be discovered, and damn us if we don't try. I've taken some food and water in preparation for a few days away, including some of Moon's dried jerky. Sorry._

_Do me a favor and let The Patron's next minion live. Let it go bleeding and crying back to her with the message that the rejects are back in the game._

_-DoD_

As an afterthought, I made sure my iPod was in my pocket and turned on, and shot through the shadows.

oOo

Wise?

No.

Even if I was the only help Nico had right then, and I'd have had to go no matter what, I let my emotions get ahead of me. I was hardly going to save his life at that point – I was merely going to kick some sorry evil butt, and for my own satisfaction.

I could see the time zones tick by as I ran. Shadows slowing giving way to lighter shades and grays as I raced after the sun. Cities soared high above the earth and hid the sunlight from the air and for long strips of earth and even along other buildings; it was impossible to miss the shadows of any such settlement. I could even name a few through sheer memorization.

Not like there were too many. It's not like I had to waste time taking anything but the direct route.

To me, they just didn't fly by fast enough.

Darkness was eaten away beneath me as I rocketed past. I didn't have the will to control myself even once Mount Tam was looming above me. I shot up the eastern side where the shadows were thick and approached the garden from downhill, all but screaming as crimson light pierced through every single cell.

Ahead, there was the mess of darkness where the tree had fallen. Atop it was a writhing mass that resembled spaghetti.

I dropped into the typical realm with a furious cry, Întuneric raised, and a blast of shadows at the dragon.

About five hundred heads stopped picking at the branches and turned to stare at me incredulously.

The smell hit me first. Great gods of Olympus, that thing needed a breath mint. By the slight edge to the rotting stink, there was just the smallest hint of cough drops, perhaps a desperate attempt to salvage itself. But that attempt had failed miserably.

From the branches of the tree, another blast of shadows shot up and hit the demon squarely in the chest. The thing's body was as bigger than like four freaking semi trailers. Yet that blast was enough to make it rear and scream.

Half its heads blasted from the bulk for me, and the other half began tearing at branches once more.

These necks weren't quite as long as the winged drakon's, but long enough.

I slid easily to one side and sliced one head down the middle – slicing through jaw and skull and down the trachea quite a bit – with Întuneric as I did. Shadows spilled from the blade and found their way into the eyes of the other melons. The snakes gave an ear-shattering screech and rose into the air to strike again.

I gagged on its breath and shadow traveled straight through it, slicing off as many reeking heads as I could when I went.

The tree would be too dangerous to travel in – all those intricate little tubes and curved planes of shadows would be deathly hard to navigate, and it'd be disastrous if I materialized with a branch through my stomach – so I settled for attacking the creature above it. More shadows were rocketing from beneath and picking off heads, choking throats, and loosening footing. The dragon bucked and yelled.

I dived behind its hind leg and dug my sword as deeply as I could into its ankle. Hey, when it doubt, remember Achilles's biggest embarrassment.

The demon screamed again and three heads poked out from beneath its belly to snap at me.

I dodged two and shoved Întuneric through the eye of another. The resulting roar was so loud and so near in the monster's chest that I felt like I was going to vibrate like a phone until I slid right off the tree.

Rather, I yelled in time with Adam Gontier – Three Days Grace, kiddos – and ripped Întuneric free. The loyal blade twirled in my hands without so much as a command and sliced off a head approaching from my right.

Light flashed from behind. I whirled and got a face-full of dragon tail.

It felt like getting sucker-punched. I'm lucky I didn't lose any teeth. I crashed into the thinnest branches on the edge of the tree's corpse, wind knocked out of my lungs. Two bloody penny-like blurs flashed overhead.

Shadows blasted them, but no matter how hard I tried, my lungs weren't ready for air yet. I rolled desperately to one side, knowing I was easy prey-

-And something grabbed the back of my shirt collar.

I was yanked to my feet as the dragon gave another tortured scream. Nico dragged me along at a breakneck pace until I finally managed to gasp and then dropped me, leaving me to my own devices. I stumbled once but managed to stay on his heels.

Once, I shot shadows again over my shoulder, just to make our message clear. As I did I saw that the demon had been distracted. Around it stood a total of four skeletons, each brandishing a weapon. Now, I'm sure the thing could've handled all six of us at once, but it was wounded and those suckers sure knew how to get under the thing's scales.

The hard marble path beat at my feet as we raced for the exit.

Luckily, we were going downhill. Bushes and flowers flew by. Behind us, the Hesperides hissed angrily, but we were too far ahead. Air and ground were just swallowed by our pace as we crossed the boundaries, feet slammed down now on the rough mountain surface, and I could see the terrifying drop to oblivion again. Nico pulled ahead and sprinted like he had Tartarus on his heels.

I knew better than to do anything but follow.

Down the mountain we ran, taking the turns and obstacles (aka rocks) with the refusal to slow. Nico cut corners and leapt from boulder to boulder during the rocky parts. I'm sure he'd have tried something a little more daring, but he knew I'd never have managed it, and he wouldn't leave me behind. A thrill went through me at that.

That unity one has with her colleagues. The pure cooperation and teamwork and strength you can find in one another when it's demanded by the darkest of things. Nico and I had that.

I don't think it was in our plans to stop. We just kept running, long after the dragon's cries had faded to echoes, and then into nothing at all.

oOo

Darkness had fallen.

It didn't daunt Nico, though I'll admit it slowed me down a bit. My eyesight isn't too bad and I could make out most things via shadows, but for me, so close to a cliff, it just didn't suffice. Being no longer sure exactly where he'd stepped or how close we were from falling to our deaths was staring to wear on me.

Adrenaline is for fight for flight, correct? Well. I experienced both that day.

We'd both begun to pant. Heavily. A stitch the size of a certain social-studies textbook I can recall had gathered on both of my sides. Ahead, I could hear Nico gasp each time there was a sharp twist and knew he wasn't much better.

Little sounds like that, in the night. I'd have found it oddly peaceful if there weren't the threat of falling.

We were on what might have been – but wasn't, with my luck – the home stretch. A long road that was level and at just the right angle that we could gain speed but not strain ourselves with each step. My legs had gone numb to pain anyway, by that point. The cold air couldn't touch the heat I felt gathering.

Not four feet in front of me, Nico pitched forward.

I tried to catch him, honestly. But we both had momentum and I was tired and I didn't achieve anything but breaking his fall. We crashed onto the asphalt as one, and once we were there, every inch of me turned to lead. I couldn't have moved even if I'd wanted to.

I groaned and stared up at the stars. The cans in the two bags slung over my shoulders were digging into my back, but I didn't care. Was too tired to give a crap for any of it.

Nico, who'd landed across my torso, let his head fall back against the rock and didn't make a sound. Only the shaking expansion and contraction of his back told me he was alive.

Alive.

Didn't care who exactly he was right then. We were both alive. Two people had just survived shadow travel, the crazy dragon of morning breath, a marathon sprint down a mountain, Gaea's latest tricks, Atlas's cuss words, each step and the setting of the sun and each star that had appeared in the sky as we'd run and every last breath – great gods, we had survived!

I laughed.

_ Take that, Fates. Suck it, Gaea. We're still breathing._

In that moment, I couldn't have been happier. Lovely Adam was even still singing to me through the ear buds. For just the shortest bit, in a body that felt like it was dying, under the night sky without a roof, lying on cold and painful rock, Ethan dead, with my sisters a whole nation away, things were freaking perfect.

Perfect.

"The stars are pretty tonight," I rasped, thinking of the maps he and I had drawn. Of the nights spent in LA training and lying in the backyard, pretending we could see the stars through the smog and talking about nonsense. Just complete randomness and pointless joy with him. Yet Nico had no comment.

I had a Kronos moment. The blip in my perfection was irritating. Knowing he had to see this – had to know, had to truly breathe for the first time, to feel and revel in this bliss surely caused only by oxygen deprivation that things were so dang wonderful – I poked him angrily.

He grunted in protest. That was enough. I laughed hysterically, a bubbly, giggly thing, and let my cheek rest on the cool rock. My eyes were so near closing. I was next to sleep, to perfect rest in a perfect world…

…But before I could shut my eyes, I saw something horribly familiar.

Reality came crushing down on me again, adding to his weight, and I'd have been happy to die right there.

"Nico, get up. Now. By the Styx, _now_!" I writhed desperately, yelling when it dug my food supply into my back. But I shoved through the pain and managed to wriggle free of him. Cool breeze greeted me – he had been hot.

I rolled to my knees, groaning as I set down the bags, and turned to face him. Sure enough, my eyes had not lied. Unfortunately.

His arm, which had been lying next to my face, was marked with thick teeth marks from wrist to elbow. Out of the marks oozed a glimmering, slick liquid that gleamed like mercury in the moonlight.

Another moan slid through my lips. "Nico! What… Why in Hades…"

"…It's… fine…" he gasped, eyelids fluttering and still out of breath.

"No, it's not!" I howled, tempted to slap him. "That's venom from Ladon! That… It can kill…"

"…I's just a scratch…"

"It is not! Nico, movement _makes poison worse_! Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Like there wasn't too much in you already; we just _had _to sprint down this gods-forsaken mountain, too?! Huh?! Oh, and look at that – I packed food! Food, food, food, more water… You can't call me in last-minute and expect me to remember medical supplies! There's not… I… I can't…"

_I can't help…_

"Didn't… Tell you… to come…"

I was too worn and shocked and devastated to be angry again. But the resolution came back just as strong, a rock of bullheadedness in my throat. I still wasn't willing to watch a child die.

Even if the child in Nico had been slaughtered and left scattered in pieces in a plain as wide as the country and left to rot a long time ago.

My fingers fumbled with the bottle of nectar attached to my belt loop. "Hold on," I rasped as I struggled, "just hold on. We can figure something out."

"Hm," he mused.

"Okay. Okay. Here it is." I grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged. "Come on, Nico. Sit up." Together, we managed to get him there, and I held the nectar to his lips. "Drink."

Adam's voice had taken on a new song now. A somber one, hopelessly defiant.

_I don't need your condescending_

_Words about me looking lonely,_

_I don't need your arms to hold me…_

He pushed against me but swallowed anyway, licking his lips. Then a bigger gulp. A stronger shove. "I mean it," he mumbled around the canteen. "…I'm fine…"

'_Cause misery is waiting on me!_

I paused the iPod and shoved the ear buds in my pocket. "Quit saying that. You know you're not. You haven't slept enough in days and there's dragon poison… Gods, Nico…"

How had things seemed so perfect before?

I laughed again, but bitterly. I'd run straight into another sick setup by the Fates in the very act in which I'd tried to avoid it.

He took one last swallow and set the canteen between us, black eyes boring into me. "Why are you here?"

"I saw the dragon," I mumbled miserably. "I saw it in my dream and knew you needed help."

"But I didn't."

"You were running around hiding in the branches beneath the tree, Nico. You needed help. And I… I wasn't enough to stop this." I flinched as my voice cracked.

"Bree…" He trailed off and sighed. "No. You shouldn't have come. Your sisters need your help and it's dangerous out here. Now that there's two of us, we'll attract more… monsters…"

He blinked and ran a hand through his hair, trying – and failing – to conceal the way he was holding his head. "Get my bag. I have some stuff in there."

I breathed a sigh of relief and opened the small pack, which had landed not far from us. "Thank the gods. An antidote, I hope?"

He scowled at me, and the disapproval hurt. Badly. "No. Just bandages and a salve."

That was painfully little. My shaking hands gave him the supplies and together we worked on bandaging the wound the best we could. It took a while, because we weren't anywhere near medics, and we were spending a lot of time cleaning it. But I could see the green tint to his skin. I knew it was too late.

"It's risky," he went on as we worked. "I…"

"Nico, I wasn't going to let you die."

"But I wasn't-"

"Even if you weren't," I snapped, jabbing at one of the puncture wounds a little too forcefully, "it was impossible for me to tell. Alright? So it's fair game I'm here."

"If I needed help, I'd have asked-"

"You won't be able to ask when you're dead!" I yelled. "Or battling a dragon like a thousand times your size! I'm sorry, but I wasn't going to sit by and _let my sibling get killed_, either!"

I hadn't meant to use the guilt card. It just slipped out. He snapped his mouth shut and stared at his arm silently until it was fully bandaged.

When it was, I gently laid it in his lap, and slowly backed away. He stared at it dully.

"…Stay still," I said. "I'm gonna set up camp. We'll have to sleep here tonight."

He gave me no sign that he'd heard. I swallowed thickly and turned to shuffle through his bag.

As I wrestled to get the rolled cot out – holy Hera, the way he packed, he'd be a wizard at Tetris – my mind also grappled with my pessimistic nature. I hoped, I prayed, that Ethan would bless me with just a few stolen and quiet moments of realism. The world owed me that much. A moment or so of clarity when things weren't too calm or too there or mistakenly perfect or crushingly horrible. A moment to just see things for what they were. The moments he had felt and thrived in when it came time to have that bullet made, time to draw that gun again, time to make a final stand…

But the cliffs soared above us coldly and the stars were as lofty as ever, as if we'd never done them a favor, and the world was silent in a harsh and mocking way, and the rock had become hard and completely immovable beneath me as if it were just waiting for me to trip and fall, and the wind made the leaves of the dried and dead brush on either side rustle warnings, and the biting wind had grown too cold despite the sweat still on my skin, and that night, the once-perfect world did not care.

It didn't owe me anything. Nor did a ghost. There were no guardian angels in the Greek myths – any guidance you got from the dead, it was because you were suicidal and nearly killed yourself to see them, and even then, _you _had to go to _their _home. Ghosts sat in their afterlife, whatever judgment they'd received, and went on in eternity.

No. Any angels you had, you crafted out of memory and your own strength. They were nothing but personified memories and lessons. Ethan wasn't here and he wouldn't ever be again. The empty air to my right would remain that way.

The small amount of realism I managed to scrape out of my newborn angel was blunt and bland. Ladon's poison wasn't the deadliest of things. There were _plants _more toxic, for crying out loud. In fact, it wouldn't be much of a problem, if there weren't so much… and we hadn't made it worse on that hell-bound sprint…

_Just a few hours. Three to sleep and just moments more to find help. Please, if anybody out there is listening, just a few hours. It's all we need._

But my angel fell. Pessimism won out. I knew better than to honestly expect so much as thirty more minutes.

I gathered some kindling from the dead grass lining the street and huddled it between Nico and I in the road. There wasn't much in terms of real firewood, so we'd just have to keep this going as long as we could with a few meager sticks. Looks like the fire was going to starve tonight. In his bag I found a box of matches and began to strike them.

It was a sad little thing. Starving and the size of my hands but just bright enough to shine light on that cold rock. Perhaps so I would not trip, or so that it could prove it wasn't pointless. I don't know. It held its own for the time being in a bold defiance of the world. Sadness sank through me, and I didn't have the heart to tell it that this was in vain. There was too little wood, and even if we'd had enough, there was no stopping the end. The defiance would die and the fire would follow and be lost in the complicated timeline that the Fates were always weaving.

I sighed and put the matches away. Nobody would ever know the fire, nobody would ever know the matches that'd made it. The bag was zipped firmly over those forgotten little sticks and, taking the bag with me, I made my way back to Nico.

He didn't look at me as I sat beside him and the bag next to us. He had closed his eyes and was swaying slightly, as if to a song I couldn't hear. The sight was unnerving. "…Nico?"

He did not answer me.

Not that Nico was in the mood to listen, but the thought that he hadn't heard was forefront in my mind. The green tint to his skin had worked its way well past his elbow by now. The cold wind blew and the fire gave a half-hearted crackle and I gave in. I considered it for the first time. He could – probably _would_ – die out here. After I'd said that to him.

I looked away just in case he would notice the wetness gathering and said, "You should lie down. Here, I set up your cot. Get situated and try not to move, 'kay?"

When I still got no reaction, I laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Nico, look… I…"

Slowly, one arm raised and grabbed my wrist. Then he leaned gently into me. There was a moment of panicked silence before he said, "I'm sorry. I just… I'm glad you're here."

His voice resembled sandpaper, but it made me smile. "Great lot I did, anyway."

"S'not so bad. For a Roman."

"Hey, I'm not the one that actually walked into the place," I chuckled. It wasn't convincing. Heat was coming off his skin in waves, and the honesty was laid in a slurred voice that sounded somewhat stoned. In fact, the only reason he'd dropped the lie might've been because he knew…

I shook my head and let go, allowing him to lay down on the cot. My hands guided his shoulders to keep him from shifting too much.

The words burst out of me. "I'm so sorry. For what I said."

"Don' worry 'bout it," he muttered. "Wouldn't ask you to lie."

I looked up at the sky for a distraction and pointed. "Look. We can actually see the stars tonight. The fox looks mad at us."

"It does," he agreed, and was stifled by a yawn.

The next time I looked at him, he had fallen asleep. Curled on his side, eyes closed, fingers twitching against the cot. A nightmare.

I was too tired to fight any of it. I let myself feel the hopelessness freely as I crawled into my own blankets beneath that cold world and before the gasping fire and tried to force my mind into sleep once more. Nothing could move what I felt that night.

Not even my angel whispering, _At least you came. You can't ever say you didn't try._

oOo

**Nyx: So, y'all like?**

**Nic: Another cliffy. Sort of.**

**Nyx: Okay, so there's a small problem with the next chapter. It's not that I was overloaded – the new schedule actually works great – but that I had to rewrite this last scene about like ten times before I was anywhere near satisfied. That's what's put me behind. Give me a few hours, and it'll be up.**

**Good news: if you've been to our profile, you've seen **_**An Eye for an Eye Makes the World Blind **_**on our coming soon list for a long while. It is going to stay there for much longer. Don't fear; we won't abandon it, not by a long shot, but it will begin work this month. It should be the equivalent of 150 pages and will be released once this series is finished. And it shall be amazing.**

**Well. I'll get to writing now. Y'all enjoy your day.**


	11. Bullet from a Gun

**DISCLAIMER: Y'all know who owns PJatO and HoO, right?**

**Hah! We love the flattery, but no. Rick Riordan does.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Koryandrs – Nyx: Thanks.**

oOo

As soon as I hit the ground, my body was made of lead, and I could not move.

Not even insomnia could spark movement. Usually, I'd say, 'Well, may the Fates eat it,' and get up to do something to kill time _efficiently_. My iPod sometimes helped me sleep on school nights. But moving my fingers was just way, _way _too much effort. So was opening my eyes to see the screen.

Yet awake I stayed.

This is how insomnia works. Hunter had a good grip on it – she could knock herself out in about five seconds flat. But no. I laid awake, too tired to even think about twitching, so far gone that my thoughts were blurred but my feelings were not and I was perfectly capable of hating the fact that I was still conscious. That I felt all the more hopeless now. That…

I have a dim memory of a sense of déjà vu. Don't know where it came from. Sure, Ethan had been bitten by Ladon once, but this was stronger than that. Poison, a small and pitiful fire – I felt like I should remember those things, but despite my efforts, I couldn't.

When I finally did fall asleep, I did exactly that; it felt like I'd just sunk through the rock and been dropped into empty space. Air batted at my hair and shoulders as gravity discovered it had full reign. Fear, the same old fear, sharp as a demon's claws and thick with a goopy poison that slugged its way throughout my system, blossomed in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself it was just wind.

Of course, that didn't work. It never worked.

Theoretically, it shouldn't have been so scary; without the threat of the ground visible, I should have been able to find a handle on myself. As I did in most horrible situations that my blood got me into. But no. Not in a dream. The blindness meant absolutely nothing.

Landing was painful but slow. Slowly, I began to know that rock was there, even though the air still whipped past and I was yet tumbling head over heels through it. And the rock hurt. It was heaviest on my head, where it throbbed angrily. The air would fade to a chill now and then and then back to its typical temperature of a lesser note. Almost like… a breeze…

The pain and the cold began to pulse in time.

That's when I knew I was waking. That's when I fought, pushing through the murk and clawing desperately at anything, at the rock, at the pain, at the cold, at the smell of dirt in my nostrils – I knew it was important to get up, but I didn't remember why-

-And my eyes opened.

I breathed a sigh of relief and exasperation as my skull seemed to explode angrily. Clearly, I had not been asleep for that long. Thirty minutes, tops. The blurry stars above had not moved much, aside from being covered in the tatters of ominous clouds above, swirling around the mountain's peak. The biggest change was that the fire had finally died. The ash was scattering around in the wind and tickling my nose.

I snorted it out and lifted my head to glance around. Nothing approaching. I was still too tired to recognize how badly we needed someone on watch, but the thought did cross my mind. Though neither of us were in shape to give one. Perhaps insomnia was my friend here.

Second, I stole a look at my brother. Still breathing.

I put my head on the pillow and closed my eyes again.

The cycle repeated itself a few times over, though with less sleep and no dreams in between the blurry and swaying images of sky and ash and mountain. Once, Nico woke me – he had been roused by the poison and begun to dry heave. That hadn't been something I'd seen from Ethan, and it wasn't very reassuring. He laid back down and fell into a fitful sleep again after the retching stopped.

The last time I woke that night, it was because the shadows stirred.

It jolted me to awareness like nothing had. The pain in my head was nothing to the urgent twists and writhes I felt inside. No, those didn't hurt, but they were so alarming I forgot what pain was. My eyes flew open and then slammed shut and I laid still, completely still. My breathing slowed until it was what I prayed was accurate. Hopefully, I'd appear to still be asleep. Yet as I laid there, my view of the shadows broadened, and I was about as blind as a falcon.

It was before the fire that they moved. They curled and both became solid and cleared at the same time – an opening doorway.

My stomach clenched. Shadow travel? Who the-

Hunter dropped out of the shadows, looking rather annoyed. Brook let go of her hand and stared with wide eyes at the rocks.

I was so shocked I sat up, blinking. Another dream? Or had I died and was hallucinating? No, no – ghosts don't recall much until judgment day-

"Hello!" Moon barked happily, bouncing forward to sniff my face, yellow eyes wide. For the first time, my scent caused her to smile. A wide mouth opened to reveal giant fangs and a lolling pink tongue and some really nasty dog breath.

I glanced up at Hunter. There was a smug grin on her face and all hell waiting for someone – great gods, don't let it be me – in her golden eyes. "…Hi."

The smug smile broke into a full-out beam, white teeth gleaming in the starlight. "Why hello there, child. Might I ask what brings you to this fine place at such an ungodly hour?"

"Dragons," I answered, too tired to even ask. I just smiled. "And you?"

"Shadows," she grinned.

Moon, who was sniffing at Nico, growled angrily. We turned to find her bearing her teeth at the bandage on his arm. "Dragon!" she yelped. "I smell dragon!"

"It stays near the tree," I reassured her.

Then I saw the broken branches, the shattered trunk, the squished apples, and shredded leaves all over again. The mood dropped once more. "I mean… it used to. But it still won't leave the garden; of that I'm sure. Else it'd have attacked while Nico was stuck on the peak."

Hunter's eyes flickered brightly. But she did not ask. Not yet.

From behind us, Nico sighed heavily. I sent a frightened look his way only to discover his eyes open and glaring angrily at the wolf leaning into his face.

She gave him a mocking grin. Dog slobber dripped off her tongue and landed between his eyes.

"Moon, back up," I said, writhing free of the blankets. I stumbled on my way over to him but knelt down at his side. The wolf backed up with another snicker. "Nico? How're you feeling?"

Without giving him time to answer, I turned to Brook. "He was bitten. Could you… I mean, it was a while ago, and…"

"You ran down the whole freaking mountain?" she scowled, spotting his green arm.

I smiled sheepishly, but it wavered. "Maybe."

She sighed and knelt down beside him. "Alright, alright. _You _can go explain this to Hunter. I'll fix the idiot who started it."

I glanced at my sister. She was still beaming, poking the ashes of the fire with her foot, one careful eye still trained on us.

After stealing one last look at my brother, I stood and drifted towards her. "So. What was that?"

She shook her head. "As awesome as it was, let's save both stories until everyone can hear. We should pack real quick and talk on the go."

I grimaced. "On the go?"

"Yes. We're not sleeping on this mountain, Bree."

The look in her eyes was of stone, and it hit me like one. What this place was to her. In the gold I could see red; red of passion and red of blood and red of pain. Black of proud marble and black of things hidden. The black that goes with blue on once-fair skin.

Another stolen look behind me at Brook and Nico and the mountain – the dragon still up there, five hundred python heads weeping for a tree – and the ruins, the ruins were the cafeteria was and Atlas labored, made a poisonous warmth grow within me.

"Fair," I decided. The place wasn't exactly doing me any favors, either. Then I remembered what Nico had said and added, "And thanks. For coming. Even though I told you not to."

She frowned. "You did?"

"Yeah… It was in the note…"

Before she could say more, Nico cried out, "Great gods, dog! Get off me!"

We turned. He was sitting up, albeit leaning against a nearby rock on the side of the road, and shoving Moon aside with his good arm. She yelped and bit him, then lunged once more for his cut. Brook giggled and held him back for her. Thrilled beyond belief, Moon began furiously licking the dragon bite.

"Stop it!" Nico snapped. "Leave me alone!"

Brook put him in a choke hold. He made a disgruntled sound and wheezed.

Hunter cheered. "Tighter! Tighter!"

"Enough!" I argued through a laugh. "Let him go."

Brook stuck her tongue out at me. Moon still insisted on giving him a very slimy bath.

Eventually, though, she appeared satisfied. She sat back to assess her work. I wasn't sure if it was her or Brook who'd been most effective; hard to tell, but the green tint had vanished, and the puncture wounds had sealed over. Beneath the dog slobber, the only other thing that marked him now was a bruise.

Brook snickered and let him go sharply, sending him to crash into the rocky ground. Then she stood and skipped happily over to us.

Moon poked him once more with her paw. "Told you she-wolf knows best." Her claws made clacking noises as she trotted after Brook.

I stifled another laugh and went over to offer my hand. "Nice defensive maneuvers."

He muttered something about innocent, evil little girls and took my hand without question. A small thrill went through me – once upon a time, he would've shoved me away, and mere minutes ago I wasn't sure he'd even had the strength. But tonight we were a team.

"You okay?" I asked gently.

"Fine," he muttered, though to me he still seemed shaky. "How did…"

"I don't know. We're going to head down to San Francisco and exchange stories along the way." My finger trailed across my own arm. "Oh, and you got a little…"

He scowled and shoved past me. "I know!"

I giggled, pleased plenty to hear his voice unhindered and all but high on the rest, and followed.

oOo

Now, I've had some pretty crappy days. This wasn't the worst of them. It still sucked, but it wasn't the worst.

First the empty ruins. Then the dragon bite. Then the nightmares. And now my jacket ripped and basically my whole arm dripping with the questionable goop that came out of Moon's mouth.

And I felt guilty as hell.

I shouldn't have been glad they were there. Not like I shouldn't have before – when I was scared to even know their names, too scared to have even the slightest of friends to lose – but because I knew this was dangerous. Because I should be alone this time of year and shouldn't find happiness in the wavering of my plans. Because they could die out here, and it was selfish to have dragged them with me.

_But you didn't. They came on their own, and you made the best of it._

Well. Perhaps with Bree.

I glanced at her again. She was trudging along beside me, lips half-angled in a familiar look I'd come to understand as confused and idle. She held no expression when she was happy or at true peace or… or much, really. This face was the result of nervousness and the feeling that she should have one, but really didn't want to. Her eyes were half-closed and her feet dragged along the harsh rocks. Yet there was a light in them as familiar as the stars.

She was tired. Probably hadn't gotten much sleep between racing down here and the others' arrival.

Bree, at least, I was growing used to. And I knew very well that I was in no right to complain over her coming. One, she might've been right about help. Two… Two…

Well. Didn't I wish I'd done the same thing when I had the chance?

And having her here was honestly easier – happier – than I'd expected. She was calm and simple and familiar and, as she somehow always did, seemed to make my load lighter.

The nightmares weren't so bad, I'd found, when I woke to her there.

But the others…

She glanced at me. "Hm?"

"We're all out here now," I rasped. "We're going to attract every monster on this half of the States."

She snorted. "Like they'd have left us out here to rot."

"Yeah, I know, but… it's going to get us hurt. _Them _hurt. And that's not how I'd like to return the favor."

My voice came out dry and sardonic, but she seemed to understand. "Hey. The Patron… Gaea…." She sent a nervous glance ahead. "…She has bigger fish to fry right now. Shay and the Wolf House. It's not like we're in the middle of the action, or… Or like… War." Her gaze darkened considerably at that.

I almost flinched. "Yeah. War. …What about Shay, though?"

She closed her eyes. "Shay and the two Daughters of Atlas she was tracking were kidnapped by Venti yesterday. That's what… That's what was wrong earlier."

Oh. Like I needed more bad news.

My brain was too overloaded to consider Shay being gone. I just sighed and offered, "Well, we can keep an eye out for her…"

"We don't think," a voice said from behind us, "that they'll be near Percy and Jason."

We both jumped. Hunter had appeared at our backs and was leaning forward so that her nose wasn't two inches from our ears. A wide, deadly grin had crossed her face.

I swallowed thickly. "Hello, Hunter."

"Hello, Ghost Boy." She straightened and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Your arm doing alright?"

I nodded, already worried about where this was headed.

Her smile and joking tone froze into hostile, serious ice. "Pity."

Bree giggled, though, so I assumed it was strong sarcasm.

Hunter sighed and fingered the pencil sitting behind her ear. "Well. So I guess that fills you in. Unless you're interested in the snowstorms."

"Shadow travel?" Bree asked.

Hunter shrugged and shook her head. "What makes shadow travel difficult isn't the lack of connection to magic, as it is with my glyphs. If that was any sort of issue, then I'm sure one who _can _shadow travel wouldn't even be able to carry others with them. And though I never inherited much from my mom's side, I've been known to fire a few shadows now and then, so I figured it was a good time to learn."

"It doesn't work like that," Bree and I said in unison.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Guys, guys, chill. You underestimate the awesomeness that is _me_. You guys wound up in China because you had no control. Me, now, I've time-warped before – I'm already familiar with pacing myself. Well…" She considered, giving me a skeptical glance. "…I couldn't control how fast I went. Hardly _where _I went. It was like firing a bullet – once it's gone, it doesn't stop. Took all I had to aim at the mountain, 'cause I knew that's where you were, and dropped out as soon as I saw you."

Bree considered. "Are you tired?"

"Well. _ I_ had a full night's sleep, because nobody _woke me_ when crap went down."

Bree looked at her feet.

"She left a note," I argued. A stupid idea, seeing as I had no idea what Bree had left, but it seemed like something she'd have done.

Hunter's face became serious again when she looked at me. "That she did. In _Latin._ Which I can't read."

"I, uh…" Bree mumbled. "Was… stressed."

"Clearly." Hunter smiled and tussled her hair to say that it was alright. "Though Granny might get mad that you wrote on her table."

Bree shrugged and said, "I'm sure it'll come off."

Then they did that thing. That thing they do. The conversation went on for minutes after that, but I understood none of it. It was all through their eyes. Worlds laid there that I couldn't reach no matter how far I shadow traveled; they could hold dragons or meadows or forests full of dappled sunlight and fallen leaves or perhaps forests of snow, as if Oswego had gained a rather sudden spurt of woodland, thick white frost laden on bare and bony branches, or lots of cats or dragonflies or ghosts or fires or bones, bones, and more bones or dazzling streaks of light or wind so strong and so cold and so fresh with scents of cinnamon and something far too sweet or memories floating around like dandelion seeds or screams of terror or screams of the dying or even the characters from all their favorite animes.

Worlds encased in silent words. Written in a language that ran by so fast across their eyes. Worlds and words engraved in their person for split seconds.

As we walked, they visited those worlds. Even as Bree grew increasingly tired. Worlds and meanings and hidden concerns. All the way down the mountain and down the long, overgrown roads that led to the city. The worlds swirled around me and I never truly understood a single one.

It was peaceful to see them do that. I had once known the satisfaction and sense of completeness and unity that this communication caused. And it was nice to see those worlds again.

But it'd been a long while since I'd been capable of that.

So it was an odd nostalgia that kept me pacified on our trip. Pacified and numb. My arm throbbed, but it was distant, and I found that I didn't care. Brook had fallen silent and was sharing her own worlds with Moon. Them, now, they just read one another's mind – there were no looks there.

As we neared the city, Bree fell back and into pace with me. Or perhaps the lack of sleep was really getting at her. "Hey."

"Hm," I answered. We walked in silence.

Now and then, our sleeves would brush against one another. The _real _world hung over us ominously.

"Don't worry," she said as the first buildings came into view.

I glanced at her. "What?"

"Don't worry. About us. We're all together again, us four." A smug smile crossed her sleepy face. "We kicked butt last time."

"_We _got kicked last time, too," I sighed.

"We got kicked _together_." She stared at me with the stars in her eyes, as if this explained everything.

A pang of sadness went through me. _It probably does, to her_. She still had that frame of mind that she'd always owned; she revolved around her sisters. She was calm around them, things were okay when they were present, Hunter could fix most problems, and Brook was grounded enough to always see sense.

She would never see them as weaknesses. As dangers.

I looked down at my feet. I was the one who made them dangers, everyone I freaking gave a damn about. The difference between Sis and I was like a slap across the face.

"Hey." She grabbed my shoulder sharply. "Don't."

I glared at her.

"I know you were wanting to be alone. But something's wrong, I can see it, I can see it in your eyes. And you tell me and you tell yourself that you don't lie and say there's nothing, but I know you better by now. What's wrong?"

The gravel road beneath our feet changed to concrete. Old houses on the city's fringes were gawking at us with dark windows and their tall, crowded faces. "It's… It's okay, really. I'm fine."

She didn't believe it. But Bree had this nice balance between knowing what's good for me and knowing what I needed. So she didn't press. "Hunter… Hunter has, um, a theory."

I raised an eyebrow.

"About the prophecy not being finished. I know you don't like prophecies, but if you had any ideas…"

I shook my head. "No. No freaking idea. What made her say that?"

"Uh… I don't know. She never explained."

We walked in silence once more until Hunter found a place she deemed worthy of our rest; a small cluster of bushes in an abandoned back yard. Out came the cots and the fire was set and bottles of water drawn and packets of hot cocoa powder revealed.

"It'll be warmer down here than on that giant rock," Hunter said proudly as she straightened the blankets.

My throat closed in at the prospect of sleep, and suddenly my world was cold. Cold and numb. I felt nothing.

Preparation. Words began in my mind – words of a darker world fed by fear – and whispered in my ears. Little things that had been said to a small boy from the last person on earth that he cared for.

_Don't be scared, Nico. Give them a chance. It's just people; what could they do to you?_

_It's okay. He's not a monster. He _is _kind of creepy though, I'll give you that…_

_ You're kidding, right? My little – sorry, big – brother, afraid of water? C'mere, Nico. I'll show you how to swim._

_ Don't be scared…_

Of course, preparation didn't help. My exhausted body that I couldn't even feel anymore was out like a light, and once it was, the dreams came.

I spent that night in a maze of bronze and silver, a moving maze that read my mind, its floors and walls and roof crafted of moving gears and parts. It shifted and clicked and hissed. Chasms opened at my feet and bullets came firing from afar. Wires poked and grasped and searched like wispy yet sharp little fingers. Fires had lit somewhere nearby, and smoke clogged the air. I ran from the maze as the walls smashed in and mechanical arms reached out and two glowing red eyes followed on my heels. And the sounds – the whirrs, the groans, the creak of metal on metal – the crackle of electricity – the crash of big things moving – the laugh, the laugh of something that doesn't think it can die…

That _can't _die…

Needless to say, I didn't escape. Not even after I woke.

oOo

**Nyx: So I worked on this in intervals throughout my day and got it done slowly. Sorry.**

**Hm. Nico's too dramatic. He has reason right now, guys, as will be explained later, but I don't think I like it…**

11


	12. The Scent of Blood

**DISCLAIMERS: Rick Riordan still owns PJatO and HoO, guys. Big time. And we thought WE were mean to Nico…**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**LoveUriah101 – Nyx: I responded via PM because it was a long reply. Thanks so much for your review.**

**Ihearthmalekith – Nyx: Thnx. And perhaps it's the avatar, but for some reason I can't place another other name to you but Karode.**

**Koryandrs – Nyx: First, sorry if I misspelled that, because I'm trying to memorize how and just tried it without cheating for the first time. And thnx.**

oOo

There was not much discussion on our course of action.

Over breakfast – some granola bars and honey buns – Nico asked if we intended to stay out here. Hunter had refused to answer him as she answered, "We already talked to Granny. Best if we were out here doing something. And if you're going to get killed while we're gone, then we might as well be doing something _here_."

I'd jabbed her roughly in the side. She had waited until he wasn't looking, then sent me an angry look, as if she'd somehow been justified in the cruelness.

Which was odd. This was not the cruelness Hunter usually showed. And no matter what her quarrel was, it was extremely rare that she wouldn't be upfront about it. No, the cold tone and sudden lack of eye contact – like he wasn't worth her – was a game she didn't play.

Until now.

Brook also made a miscalculation in counting our food stores. If I had less respect for privacy or isolation, I'd have pressed the matter again.

"So," Hunter said once everything was packed. She slung two bags over her back and eyed Nico slyly. "Did you have a plan for searching this place, or should I figure something out?"

He scowled. "If you want to comb this place alley by alley, then that's how we'll do it. But we could narrow down the search if, say, there were someone in the city with the information we'd need. Someone who'd know of any mythological activity."

"And you know such a person?" she'd snarled.

"No. But I know how to get him to talk."

oOo

Dr. Chase was pretty nice, especially considering that just a few months ago I had been trying to murder his daughter.

The man who answered the door looked more like a child to me. He had the eccentric smile and wide eyes far too unbound to tell of many years on this earth. The aviator's goggles didn't help. At the sides of his head, the two ends to the helmet flopped back and forth.

"Hello!" he said happily. I could see blond hair trapped in the goggles above his brown eyes when he looked at me. "Are you delivering the WWII Belgian uniforms?"

"Yeah," came Hunter's immediate answer. She dug around in a bag for some paper and produced naught but a napkin and a marker. "Just sign here, please."

The man's smile began to fall like molasses down a tree. "…Where are they?"

"We're not," Nico said in that cold and unwavering tone he took with strangers, "delivering anything. We're looking for some help."

The smile was almost completely gone now. "You're all kids. Where are your parents?"

Nico must've found it amusing, because he flashed a Cheshire smile. "You know exactly where our parents are."

"Right." The man's lips had begun to frown as he shuffled nervously and looked down the street. "Look, I'd love to help out, but I can't just open this place up to every single demigod that walks down here – it's not Camp, and I can't – only if someone was, like, dying…"

As he rambled, he stepped back and began to close the door.

There was a sharp bang as the wood met Nico's palm. The door froze. Dr. Chase started at the strength of my brother's hold.

"Two years ago," Nico said calmly, "my older sister died on the quest sent to retrieve your daughter from Mount Tamalpias. If that's not enough, then I should inform you that Annabeth's sanity is on the line; I think it's in your best interests to hear us out."

Dr. Chase paled. "…Alright. Come on in."

oOo

"So, you're Annabeth's dad?" I asked as he led us through the house. It smelled of cinnamon. In the living room floor, two children were warring with LEGOS while an Asian woman – their mother – played ref with a warm smile. That smile vanished when she saw us.

"Yes," Dr. Chase answered. His own smile had returned, though. "These are my sons, Bobby and Mathew. And my wife."

The woman forced her own smile to life once more. "Hello. You're… friends of Annabeth?"

"Yes," Dr. Chase sighed. "Their names are… uh…"

"You forgot to ask their names?" Mrs. Chase sighed, as if they'd had this conversation before.

My eyes began to wander away from the awkward moment. On the walls were mirrors and little displays of motivational English sayings. There was a painting next to us – it was in warm yet muddy colors, like a forest trail in the fall.

"We're not _friends,_ per say," Hunter explained. "We met her on Olympus in August. …She probably hasn't mentioned us much."

"She knows Nico," Brook pointed out.

Dr. and Mrs. Chase stared at him.

He cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, we don't have much time…"

"Yes! Of course," Dr. Chase said. The smile leapt back to life. "Let's go to my study." Up the stairs we went, highlighting the brothers' LEGO battle with the war drums of our feet on the steps.

The study was similarly childish. From the ceiling hung all sorts of old-fashioned plane models on strings. About five different tables stood in the large space, each depicting a different battle scene. I mean, this guy could_ really_ get his nerd on – toy soldiers, all precise down to the uniforms and weapons, fake trees, rivers, tanks, flags, all nine yards. The closest ones depicted Nazis retreating from some ferocious-looking Soviet soldiers.

"Nice nerd cave," was Hunter's first remark. The lack of censoring was, of course, her trademark.

Dr. Chase just beamed. "I know, right? I've just started my World War II work. The Great War just took forever, and this one – look, here's a scene from D-Day-"

"Dr. Chase," Nico sighed.

"Right. Sorry." He sat down in a chair and motioned for us to take places on a nearby bench. The structures lined the walls, and were all different shapes and sizes. Collectables, perhaps? The walls themselves were hidden beneath withering propaganda posters that were waged in a violent war of their own. On his desk, the computer's screensaver was a timeline depicting soldiers and guns and more flags.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he said, "I'm… sorry, Nico. About your sister."

Nico pretended he hadn't spoken.

"What… Who are the rest of you?"

Hunter straightened. "I'm Hunter, Daughter of Kronos. This is Brook, Daughter of Artemis, and Bree, Daughter of Hades."

That lie came easily to us all now.

Dr. Chase stared at us with an uncharacteristically grim face. "You're the three rebels. From Olympus."

"That we are," Hunter admitted with a ghastly grin. "But don't worry. We don't bite."

Nico, seeing her act as representative, was happy to stand down.

We talked for a minute on context – Percy being kidnapped, The Patron rising, the scuffle with Orpheus – before getting down to the heart of the matter. "Nico here," Hunter said, "was sent on a lead to Mount Tam. But that place is deserted. So we're going to scout out this city before heading out in search of another hint. We were wondering if you'd noticed anything… mysterious going on."

Dr. Chase glanced from her to Nico. "Is that true?"

"It is," Nico sighed. "Annabeth herself sent me. We'd have contacted her since, but she's been busy looking for Percy. And I think she mentioned something about saving a few newbies from the Grand Canyon area."

"She's doing alright?"

"Fine. Considering the situation," Nico said dryly.

Dr. Chase returned to Hunter. "So all you need is advice on where to look? No weapons, no shelter, no war uniforms?"

"None," she agreed. "Just advice."

He pursed his lips. "Hm. I don't think…"

"There was a strand of gruesome murders in LA," Brook remembered. "Like when a demon known as Jack the Ripper tore through London. Or there was one time I saw an article in the news about a boy falling from the St. Louis Arch – Percy, we later found out. It could literally be anything. Dead pets, odd smells, a haunted house, UFO sighting…"

"We had one of those," Dr. Chase admitted. "Though it was during a snowstorm, and the kid who reported it was high."

Nico snorted. "I noticed. Is there usually snow here this early?"

"Not this early, no. And not this much. I've heard that snowstorms are crazy this winter all over the place."

"Anything else?" Hunter prompted.

"Um… No. I'm sorry, but not that I can recall. You could ask some of my neighbors, though. Say you're kids doing a statistics study on which news articles are read the most often. You're bound to find something-"

"Snacks!" someone announced from outside. Dr. Chase fell silent. A moment later, the door floated open, revealing his wife standing there with a plateful of cheese and crackers. "I thought you might like something."

"Ah. Thank you," Dr. Chase said, leaning forward eagerly.

"I was talking to the children," Mrs. Chase scolded. Her husband began to pout.

She handed the plate to us, though, with a cold glare. And there she stayed still for a long while.

"…Honey," Dr. Chase began. "They don't need but information. Have you seen anything odd on the news recently?"

"No," she said simply. Her eyes locked on Hunter. "You're the Titan's daughter, aren't you?"

Hunter smiled and offered what could've been a large and slow nod or a small bow. "The Daughter of Time, in the flesh."

"They let the children of demons run quests now?"

Eyes landed on Hunter, including mine. Fear and tension began to bubble up from the floor. Yet she was Hunter; true to her parentage, she wouldn't let the slightest crack appear in her rock. "Titans," she corrected politely. "Titans were sometimes classified as a species of monster, yes, that were oddly god-like. But all in all their own thing. Nobody really has a name for what their children are, because the children don't act like them, yet they're not something the world has owned up to before."

Mrs. Chase narrowed her eyes further and left.

Nico sighed and shook his head. "We should be leaving, anyway. Let's go."

"Don't," Dr. Chase said. "She's just… She knew what she was going into when she joined this family. She prepared to face it, even as much as it scared her. She's learned to love Annabeth and respect your cause. But the terror never left. She's just… nervous… to see Kronos's child here."

"Huh," Hunter mused. "Funny. When I get nervous, I like to eat children."

"For all she knows, that's not very sarcastic."

"Then teach her better. I would've happily given my life putting that bullet through my father's head. Others _have_. And for all I know, all four of us will in a few minutes." She stood and stretched. "Come on, guys. We should bail before I get hungry. The two boys downstairs looked delicious."

We didn't question her.

On our way out, she halted and turned. "Thanks for the help, Dr. Chase. I'll tell Annabeth you said hi. If you want, we could also IM you if we find anything on Percy."

"Thanks." The smile rested on something about as sturdy as an earthquake as he stood and offered his hand. "We'll… do the same. If we find anything mysterious going on around here."

Then a stern looked crossed his face and he wagged a finger at us. "And stop eating my neighbors! I know you're responsible for the Belgian uniforms delivery man!"

Hunter offered her own grin and shook that hand happily. "I apologize. I'll try to refrain from now on. Have a nice day."

"You, too. And stay safe."

oOo

Most people would know better than to say those two last words to us. But he was a parent; what else could he have possibly offered? Could we ask him to hope for less?

So off we went. We walked up and down the streets in an odd fashion that I'd have gotten lost in if Hunter weren't there to guide me. Slowly, step by step, we made our way closer to the city's towering center. Off to our right, the wide blue expanse of the bay peeked through buildings. The bridge resembled a long arm stretched across it. The farther in we got, the more it seemed like a true city to me; the skyscrapers closed in, the streets became too uniform, the crowd thickened, the smells clogged my nose and made me want to gag. The place struck me as an odd sort of apparatus – a machine with its whirring, indecipherable parts working all around us. It certainly made noise worthy of that.

We made our way through some of the smaller cogs, the ones that swarmed the place and made it dirty but also made it tick, to a clearing. In its center was a statue of machine parts thrown into a heap. Grappling with it were the carved shapes of five near-naked men; it seemed that, to them, the parts had a purpose and the lever needed to be pulled.

Hunter turned away from the sculpture to face us. "Alright. We'll start from here."

"How'd you find this place?" I asked.

"I followed the tourists. That statue, over there? Made by a famous deaf man. It was a sign of inspiration after the fires that happened here a while ago. Ask me to head anywhere else, and I'm lost."

Nico, who was ignoring us, grunted as he shuffled through his bag.

"So," Hunter went on, "our first goal is to find a map. I've time-warped us so far, but we'll have to split up if we're to have hope of covering half this place, and that means we'll all be responsible for our own sections. Go through fast. This'll be our meeting point when we're done." She looked up at the sky. The sun had just begun to set, staining the previously blue bay a startling red-orange, as if the blood of the grand machine had been set aflame.

Nico surfaced from his bag with a map. "Here. I think this is San Francisco…"

Hunter sighed and walked over to stand behind his shoulder. "It's upside-down, idiot. Give here."

He gave her a mockingly hurt look and turned the map over.

She scowled and yanked it from his hands fast enough to make me jump. Behind her, something she didn't see, Nico glared murderous daggers.

The new rift between them was like the earth rippling beneath my feet. Feeling slightly ill, I looked away until Hunter said my name and gave me my section of the city.

With the marker she had offered to Dr. Chase, she drew a circle around the place designated for the statue, then used Anonymous to slice the map into our different pieces. As she handed them out she warned, "Be efficient but thorough. No time nor lives to waste. Do what you can and meet back here an hour before sunrise; we'll discuss where to go from there. Chances are we'll have to spend another day or so here, so don't stress. If something goes wrong or you get lost, retreat back here until someone else shows up. No running off into somebody else's section. That way, we'll know where to search for you if you go missing. Am I clear?"

We all nodded, even Nico, who did it grudgingly.

She turned to examine the statue once more. This special, prize gear had been cleared of snow and gleamed in the moonlight. The light just shot off it at different angles and then would calm at the slightest tilt of my head. That thing had been polished an cherished for some time now, apparently.

"Splitting smart?" Moon asked quietly.

"For now," Hunter decided. "Let's head out."

She, of course, didn't demand we 'stay safe'.

oOo

The night was too peaceful. It scared me.

Every little sound, every beat to the machine's strange tunes, every side conversation, every elevated cry, each little outburst, the last little slight of foot on the icy sidewalk, every car's rumble, each honk, all the angry yells and surprised pops and distant siren – great gods of Olympus, if this was considered the norm, I'd hate to see what a 'real' riot would look like.

Over all, we'd managed to cover about half of the city. Between some gentle time warp, shadow and undead help, and the pack, progress was a tad faster than predicted.

"Are we going to sleep indoors tonight?" Brook asked casually as we took a new route to the city's outskirts.

Hunter shook her head. "No. One, I'm not going to risk being discovered by people _and _monsters. Two, our emergency money isn't enough to be taking hotel rooms each night. Three, when we're found, we don't need to bring that down on the clueless people in the other rooms. Maybe we'll look for an abandoned house."

"We should set up a watch," Nico muttered.

"No dur," she sighed heavily. "How about you take the middle one?"

Then she caught my gaze. I glared with all I had; I wanted to know why she was doing this, what he'd done to her, how to help-

"Or, you know. A more pleasant shift," she offered. I nodded and decided the rest could wait.

"I'm fine with middle shift. I can spend one sleep period sleeping and the other trying to reach the dead in my dreams," Nico suggested. "There's bound to be something around here."

I turned to stare. "You can reach the dead through _dreams?"_

"Yeah. Long-distance training technique."

Eventually, we discovered a shady-looking neighborhood at an okay distance from the other houses; not too close as to endanger them, and not too far as to lengthen our return trip endlessly. As we walked, the snow began to drift down again.

Snow is painfully blank-looking.

We made our way down the street as it came down in white flurries. Like mobile blind spots. They fell down on the hard road to make it soft and untrustworthy, sent the few fearful locals running inside to locked doors, took away the grass' many shades and shapes, and sure enough was back in the clearing taking the lustrous shine off that statue.

It grew thicker as we went. We huddled closer together as the cold fell with it; Moon seemed to be the least troubled by this. She weaved her way among our feet and panted happily, sending white puffs of her breath into the air. Nico shuffled nervously and kept his eyes constantly moving. Hunter just trudged on. I did what I always did – I followed her.

A strange gravity settled over me, though. The unnatural silence of a frozen machine once so loud normally wouldn't have been so bothersome. But in it I nearly asked aloud what was bothering Brook. Where Shay had been taken. What had Nico so on edge, so defensive. Why Hunter was in a bad mood. I had myself familiarized with her particular female-born mood swings, both by day and by the look in her eyes, and I knew this wasn't it.

There was something wrong with everyone now.

The fact was painful. The last of last night's resolve melted away and crumbled into ashes at its feet. The lack of sleep decided to join the party, too, and scattered the dying embers into the wind. The snow put them out for good.

Some things, I decided, were just too quiet.

I glanced down at my iPod. _Misery Loves My Company_ was still on pause. I was ready to put my ear buds in when Hunter spoke.

"This one."

I looked up. Before us, drowning in the snow, was a white structure leaning dangerously to one side. It reminded me of a drunk man. The windows were gone and the front door ripped off its hinges so hard, the door frame was hanging at an odd angle.

"There's no insulation in this," Brook noted. "It's older than our house in Oswego."

"It'll work," Hunter sighed. Her voice had that dragged-in-mud tone that comes with tiredness. On we treaded, up the stairs and into the small but empty living room. Dust was everywhere. A few large spiders scrambled in panic up the walls when they saw us. Moon gave them a warning growl. After a quick check of the rest of the house, Hunter gave us the signal to set up camp in that small living room.

"There's no room upstairs for a good defensive position, and downstairs this is the farthest place from the wind," she reasoned. Here, the broken windows had been boarded. The concrete floor and cracked, aged walls were gentle but strange to me. Like those times that make you feel bad, because you see an old man, and he waves to you, and as you wave back you doubt his motives and mentally write him off as creepy and perverted. These walls were like that man. I knew I shouldn't think so badly of people when I first see them, nor of these structures, but it's instinct. Instinct that's saved my life. The smell of dust and smoke still hung heavily here, and those weren't always pleasant reminders.

We set up our sleeping bags – Hunter, at least, had known what to pack. She'd even brought a spare for Nico. We bundled them up together, us three sisters, on the far side of the room in a corner where we felt was the warmest. In preparation for the cold night, we didn't leave much space between us. Moon closed the rest of it by curling up in the last little uncovered piece of floor. Nico, who favored closeness and physical contact much less, settled down farther along the wall.

Night strode into the room seemingly from nowhere. He sat in the middle with ears erect, and his tail still.

"Wolves take first shift," Brook mumbled sleepily around a yawn.

I smiled at her voice and curled up tighter in the soft silk of the bag, enjoying the warmth. It turned cold when I felt her hand shaking next to mine, though.

"Report any dreams you have in the evening," Hunter sighed. "Nico, wake me for third shift later."

"Hm," he replied.

And so, as the sun traveled slowly overhead and the snow rusted up the giant machine, we slept.

oOo

**Nyx: Not really the chapter to say this, but I like Redeemable a lot better than Rejects. Faster-paced.**

**Nic: That it is…**


	13. Fire, Fire

**DISCLAIMER: Yes. All of Nico's troubles are still Riordan's fault.**

**IMPORTANT QUESTION: My chapters are off. If you take away the prologue, the last chapter I update each week should be a multiple of three. Yet this is the second chapter this week, and it is twelve. I haven't skipped anything, but I'm very confused as to where I got off track. The way the pattern's broken suggests that I accidentally posted an extra sometime. If you can figure it out, please let me know!**

oOo

I awoke early.

If I'd dreamed again that night, it was hazy and quick, and I had no clear memory of it. Perhaps I was merely recalling another night.

Nevertheless, my eyes opened feeling oddly refreshed. Dying sunlight was just barely squeezing through the boards on the windows. It lit the dust floating around in a lighter, peaceful, beautiful mockery of snow; bright specs of light flurries falling and drifting at a gentle pace. It painted the boards with wonderful orange and highlighted their cracks and crevices with the deepest, darkest blacks. The blacks that swerved as ink along a page to finish an astounding picture or a great novel that left you breathless.

Hunter was sitting in the middle of the living room now, perfectly still, head cocked to one side. The house creaked. From outside, the sounds of the mechanical city – what'd woken me – continued. From the quieting neighborhood we heard children laughing.

I closed my eyes at the relative dimness of the room, at the warmth still soaking into my bag, and decided to be lazy for my last few minutes of rest. Pretend I was still asleep for nobody but myself. It was nice, lying here, on the hard floor, sheltered by the bag…

Something shifted nearby.

Hunter paid it no mind, but my eyes opened and searched. It had been Nico – he'd rolled over, and by the twisted and agonized state of his bag, had been doing so all day long. In the shadows beneath the windows, I could see his whole torso was wrenched free of the bag's constraints. His jacket was still a rumpled mess. From this angle, his face was hidden from me.

I watched for two minutes. Five. Ten. Then he rolled over again, fingers twitching, his face revealed in the red strings of luminance. The matted mass of his hair was hanging all over his face. Despite what I knew must've been going on in his head, the sight made me chuckle.

Hunter glanced over at me. "You up?"

I nodded, determined to be silent, and crawled out of the bag.

She shrugged and glanced around again. "Dreams?"

"None," I sighed. The image of falling bloomed in my mind again, and I glanced nervously at Nico. "I sure hope that's just a ghost."

"As do I," she whispered, with a sharp lining to the words.

I cast a sideways glance at her, at the light falling on her hair and gracing one side of her strong face, at the fire dancing in those golden eyes, and asked, "What's got you so mad at him?"

She looked away real fast and studied the floorboards between us. "I… I'm just worried about how good he is. For us. You know, having all four of us quest together."

"We made a good team last time."

"Last time. _The _last time. I figured that was the end of it."

But there was something in her voice. I gave her a look. "There's more to it than that. What are you hiding?"

She looked up at me, that red light glaring off furious gold. "Listen, I know it's not fair to judge, but my first priority is you and Brook, and even if it sounds paranoid, I'm not going to let him be the cause of tragedy here."

I balked. "Tragedy? What are you talking about?"

At that moment, Moon let out a large yawn. The squeak of dog-voice peered out at us from her gaping jaws and the recesses of that loud throat of hers. Giant fangs glinted in the black-and-red light. Then yellow eyes opened as she shook her head, silver ears flopping, and offered, "Good evening."

"Evening good," Hunter mocked, smiling. The past conversation fell off her face faster than a hippocampus could swim.

Moon frowned and let her ears fall back. "Evening good?"

"No," I assured her. "You had it right."

Hunter chuckled as she stood. "Help us wake the others, Moon. It's time we got up anyway."

"Mistress awake," Moon said, flicking her tail. Brook cracked an eye at us to prove it.

I stretched and sighed with my muscles. "Alright. Y'all pack up. I'll get Nico."

He had stopped tossing. As they shuffled behind me, I poked his shoulder. "Hey."

He glared at me through one eye.

"Time to go," I sighed. "Did you learn anything helpful?"

"Couldn't find a ghost," he muttered, turning so that he was drowning in the thick material.

"Oh?"

"Mind had other ideas," he told the sleeping bag.

I pulled it away from him. "Sucks. C'mon. Hunter's mad enough at you as it is."

He sighed and blinked at the ceiling. Beneath those black eyes were equally dark bruises – you'd think he didn't get _any _sleep, the way he looked. And unless the sunset was playing tricks on me, his right eye was also bloodshot.

The sight was alarming. "Are you okay?" I whispered.

His eyes landed on mine. Now, I wasn't Bianca, but I knew my brother well enough to detect a few lies when I hear them. His tone was completely honest when he answered, "I'm fine."

Skeptical, though, I offered a hand and helped him up. He didn't protest.

We paid our respects to the sun's dying art as the light faded by eating in silence. More granola bars and some canned peaches. And Moon's jerky, which had been returned to her. Though as far as I understand, as a food tampered by humans and killed for her, it was somewhat like wolf crack. Brook let her have a small piece before taking it away.

"So," Hunter said once darkness had fallen on us again. Her eyes glinted from the shadow of the wall. "Any dreams?"

There was silence. Whatever had bothered Nico, he wasn't willing to share it. Strong and stony quiet emanated from us.

"I, uh…" Brook began. "I had the hunting dream again. In a cave."

"Anything new?" Hunter perked up.

Brook shook her head.

Hot coals landed on my tongue. _You're lying!_

But the heat of them sealed my lips shut.

Nico cleared his throat. "So… What're we doing today?"

Hunter shrugged. "We'll have a new meeting place. Another statue made by the same guy. We'll search the rest of the place before deciding if we should head out or spend another day here first. Or, gods willing, go after a potential lead." Her gaze rose to him.

"I knew _that…"_

"That's all you_ need_ to know," she retorted.

"Oh! You guys know what we forgot last night?" I burst, louder than a passing car.

They all turned to stare at me. My gaze found the floor. "Uh, Granny – we forgot to IM her."

Hunter sighed and got to her feet. "Well. We'll find Tilden's next statue after that, then." She found herself our emergency water-filled spray-paint can and a flashlight, then, a shady glint in her eyes, gave Nico a hard stare.

He shuffled nervously. "Okay. I'll just… go… check the perimeter…"

She watched him go with Armageddon in her eyes. "Bree. Go after him."

I gave her a startled glance. "Why?"

"Actually, you stay. Brook?"

She cast Hunter a bewildered look but disappeared into the house anyway.

There was silence until Granny's image was summoned.

oOo

Today it was a statue on Market Street.

There was a pillar. Three figures stood around it, motioning to some grand piece at the top too high for me to see. The glare of the bustling machine didn't help.

"That's it," Hunter pointed, reaching over some pedestrian's head to do so. "Way down there."

That was when the city lights laughed in my face. "Ouch. Someone needs to turn down the lights."

"Nm," Nico grunted in agreement.

Brook squinted. "Well, this _is _Market Street."

Right. Identifiable by the chokehold of the buildings on the 'large' street and in the air above. It was so squeezed and narrow here, even I was beginning to get uncomfortable. Though to be fair there were still far too many people about for my liking. Like freaking ants all over their little mounds. Or bees. No matter how far you dig into a pest's home, you find more and more layers, and in each, thousands of more insects.

Cities just held bigger… insects.

I tried to steal another glance at the approaching statue as we walked, but the light was still in my way. The scalding wonder made me flinch.

"Geez. Y'all still see that?"

"Yep," Hunter answered from five steps ahead. Brook weaved through the crowd behind her, Nico and I on their heels.

My brother blinked and rubbed his eyes. "See what, exactly?"

"The light up there by the statue. …Can you not see it?"

"Visual migraine," he muttered.

I groaned. "_Dude._ You should've taken a better guard shift. Or none at all. Seriously, nobody would've minded."

"It's no big deal. Kinda fun to watch, actually. Most of the time."

"You get these often?"

"Uh… The last one was about… It was after the Battle of the Labyrinth, so over a year ago?"

I turned to glare at him. _"No big deal?"_

"Nope."

Ugh. We had to stop. We were going to get killed out here at this rate. But when I turned, I discovered my fatal mistake; this living sea was not kind to navigators, and Hunter and Brook had vanished into it without a trace. They'd been eaten by the machine just like that.

"Great. Just great," I grumbled.

"Chill. They're headed for the statue," Nico sighed.

Luckily, light was still glaring off of it, and it was easy to locate.

We pushed and shoved our way forward, fighting the flow of people to get to the pillar of fire. It was amazing how bright that thing lit. Flames of glorious red and boasting orange shone from its head like they'd never heard of water. Like they could never die.

_Like a phoenix,_ I thought sadly.

Five steps later, I halted. The flames were moving around up there.

…What…?

"Well? You think I got _time _for you to stop every two seconds?" a loud voice demanded. "Go on!"

I jumped about four feet and whirled with Întuneric drawn. The man – boy, just over Hunter's age – just raised one eyebrow at me from behind his shades.

He was rather good-looking, if you like the blonde jock thing. Slicked back hair that gleamed like coins, piercing eyes, a strong but not boulder-like jaw, a sleek nose and perfect eyebrows. He wore shorts, sunglasses, and a tight muscle shirt. He reminded me oddly of the many pictures I'd seen online upon searching for artistic help upon drawing anime; something about the proportions were just right, too perfect.

I blinked at him. Or were the measurements wrong? They played at my mind, one moment in line and then the next nothing but teasing rebels.

Nico saw him and froze in shock.

The boy glanced back at the statue. "Guys. Seriously. Running low on time here."

I turned to look at what'd worried him. The light glaring off the statue had vanished. "Who… Who are you? How do-"

Before I finished, fire existed again.

It didn't come from the monument, though. It came from the side.

Nico howled as the flaming projectile crashed into him. The shades boy yelped and ducked behind a streetlight. I spun around, Întuneric held out before me.

Just in time. Another ball of flame slammed into my sword and spun angrily before my face, a piercing scream coming from it. Blazing fingers reached out of the mass and swiped at my nose with razor-sharp claws. The heat baked on my skin and had my palms instantly slick with sweat.

With a shocked yell, I shoved back, and sent the flaming girl sprawling. She crashed into some mailbox-looking structure so hard it crumpled like tin foil beneath her. A myriad of screams rose from civilians as they cleared the area. Now, I don't know how to walk in high heels – let alone run – but these people seemed to have it down real good all of a sudden.

The girl shook melting metal from her hair and hissed at me. Her eyes were red, red like fresh blood, and her skin paler than even mine. The dark hair that fell to her chin was still in flames. She pushed herself up quickly, legs banging awkwardly on the concrete, nails ripping through the scraps in her way.

One leg was that of a donkey. The other was a bronze machine, leaking oil the color of the sleek fangs protruding from her crimson lip.

Have you ever wondered where vampires come from?

She screamed and was on me again in a heartbeat, nothing but wilding sounds and insane thrashing. The nails flashed dangerously close to my face again.

But I was ready this time. I dove to one side and narrowly missed having my throat scooped out. She wrenched back to catch me-

-Too high. I was there and gone within a second, Întuneric hardly dragging through the obstruction of her ribs. With a wail, she burst into flaming, scattering dust.

The street was nearly cleared now. All down the road, people had begun to get out of their cars and run. I caught a flash of golden magic and a swinging scythe from up ahead by the statue-

-And then two more were in my way, and we danced to that perilous tune once more.

There was a clash of blades. One had herself two daggers. The sound they made on Întuneric shot into the air like a firework above the candles of human cries and sent bile slicing up my throat.

I didn't care it was impossible. _Scratch my blade, monster, and I'll tear you to bits._

The thought annoyed Întuneric, but annoyance is a petty emotion. It burned hot and short and sent my sword through her throat fast enough.

The heat was stifling now. Like I'd been pressed back into a furnace. Nico had been lost somewhere behind me near Shades Guy. I dodged closer to the street to avoid daggers again and found myself nearly tripping over a car.

Down the road, Hunter yelled angrily.

I howled and shoved the nearest empousa aside with my blade, her flames sputtering out against Întuneric's side. I threw rippling shadows at the last and ran back to the lamppost.

Shades Guy was still hiding there, gripping the pole and staring. He didn't seem to be too troubled. Just worried.

Three more demons had cornered Nico against the wall nearby. Two more grappled with a nearby skeleton that was constantly knitting itself together where their claws sliced them apart; rips rejoined, the skull hardened again, and its sword flashed out constantly.

The three on my brother were toying with him. One would dart in from the right and take a swipe at his head. He would shove her away – earning a flaming jacket sleeve – and turn in time to slice at the next from the left.

The monster in the middle seemed to be the problem, though.

She just smiled, a strange purring noise emanating from between her fangs. "Don't be scared."

"Don't worry. I'm not," I muttered, slicing her from shoulder to hip with my sword. She fell apart in showers of ashes and gold.

Her sisters screamed and lunged for Nico. I whirled to fight the ones that'd approached from behind as he dealt with them.

Wolves had joined the empousi now. Mangy, thin things the size of Shetland ponies. They added their sick snarls and grumbles to the song.

In answer, a pure, singing note rang out from Moon, echoed by the pack. Two silver solves leapt to my side and a third to Nico's.

"My keys!" Shade Guy yelled. "My keys! I dropped my keys!"

I took one glance at the ground, at the litter and weeds that had ignited fervently, and rolled my eyes. _Good luck, buddy._

Together, Nico and I charged the next three wolves.

We moved around one another like water. The street had become a labyrinth of dead cars and lurking demons. Thus, the sidewalk was popular, even if it was bottlenecked. One wild battle cry from him had us surging up it towards where we saw Anonymous at work.

"_Keys!"_ Shade Guy screamed, much too loud now. Too _sanely_ loud. "My keys are gone!"

A werewolf snapped on my heels. I jumped out and to the left as Nico swooped in from behind, taking it in the side. We turned around one another as if attached to the pole, or the way I'd seen Hunter and her scythe work – I was her hold on the shaft, and he was the blade. Our swords rang with one voice and slowly, inch by inch, we gained ground.

I heard an empousa wail at my back as he killed it. "They keep coming back?"

"Yeah," he muttered. To prove his point, the puddle of gold and ashes – we'd moved again and it was in my sight now – began to sift.

In the street, a car exploded.

It was like being hit with a wall. A flaming wall. Heat cracked my lips and dried my eyes as we sprawled forward across the concrete. Glass and metal shards went flying. I tried to roll – old instinct taking over like water over rocks, Ethan's voice calm in my ears above all the spontaneous chaos – but landed amid the searing metal tears. I screamed, lost control, and crashed into another streetlight.

Nico fared better. I felt more of than saw or heard him get smoothly to his feet nearby. There was the snarl of demons as they lunged once more.

I lifted a head and fired shadows at the werewolf at his back, open jaws inches from the back of his neck. Meanwhile, he attacked another vampire from just beyond my field of view.

A strange ringing was in my ears; yet I heard the snarl and heard the screams and, from where Hunter was, another loud combustion as more empousi discovered gasoline-filled engines.

I coughed and stood, caressing the hand I'd burned. Întuneric twirled in one hand only as I sliced at another empousa.

Nico cried out desperately. There were four total on him now, all snapping and snarling. One girl sneered to reveal flames licking her elongated canines.

A scythe swept through her middle.

Hunter burst into existence the way fresh summer air bursts into your lungs at the end of the last day of school. Nico and I scrambled back to practiced positions and found ourselves facing some werewolves.

More explosions went off in the street.

Hunter held up a time shield, throwing her arm out and sending the objects spinning away with a translucent wall of shimmering gold. They would slow down and then just drop where they were. A couple – don't ask _me,_ it's her dimension – ricocheted off and cut into a building across the street.

"My keys!" Shades Guy was still screaming, well beyond hysteric now. "I can't find my keys!"

"We have to help," Nico grunted between parrying a vampire and slicing a werewolf.

I cast him a bewildered glance. "Shades Guy?"

"Seriously? 'Shades Guy'?"

"Yeah, well…"

"He can find his keys on his own! Hold your position!" Hunter barked angrily.

The wolf lunging at Nico dropped, a silver arrow appearing in its skull. Moon and Night were working alongside us now. More gleaming, lithe shapes slunk along the cars, searching for the rouges lighting the explosions.

"We have to!" Nico argued, gutting the werewolf stalking at us from the side. "That's not just-"

"I said no!"

"He _needs his keys!"_ Nico spat.

"Just wait a moment!" I pleaded. "Let's finish this first!"

But there were no words to be said. Nico cast a frightened look at Shades Guy, a furious glare at Hunter, and rebellion sparked off obsidian. He disappeared into the shadows.

Hunter sighed heavily. "Cover Brook. I'm going after him."

Without another word, she vanished.

oOo

**Nic: Where is this week's third chapter?**

**Nyx: Heheheheh… Hours in the future…. Perhaps tomorrow…**

**Nic: Not funny.**

**Nyx: My week was really, really crammed, guys. Full-time writers manage to write at about the rate we do, and we are NOT full-time writers, for reasons not up for discussion. So please forgive me. I'm trying. Please do review, guys. Predictions/ideas, criticism, anything. It'd be appreciated. Thanks.**

10


	14. Fred

**DISLCAIMER: Rick Riordan still owns PJatO and HoO. Srsly, guys, I know we're awesome, but you need to calm your imaginations. Geez. You think so highly of us.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**LoveUriah101 - Nyx: We responded via PM again. Just let us know if you would rather not have us cram your email and we'll just shorten our responses so that we can post them here if need be.**

**Iheartmalekith - Nyx: Kol. We were Firebird4Ever for like two years, so yeah...**

oOo

Sure enough, the keys had been snatched.

Near the end of the street, far too distant for Brook's wolves to chase, was a pack of three wolves and two empousi. They weaved among the abandoned cars and pretended to be snapping at the last few fleeing mortals – but I knew better.

The shadows left a refreshing taste on my tongue as I dropped out, landing atop a bulky van in desperate effort to find some sort of high ground. Not a moment later, Hunter appeared on a Prius just across the yellow line.

She was a terrifying sight. For a moment, I feared she'd come to take _my _life – she was in a battle stance, facing me, Anonymous's massive blade poised expertly behind her as if it weighed nothing, and those golden eyes were locked on mine.

Then she turned to look at the retreating demons. "Keys, huh?"

"Reigns," I corrected. "Though he does like to keep it in car mode, so yes, keys."

Luckily, the visual migraine had faded. The air didn't shimmer. I had clear sight of the moving pack. Two of the wolves had turned to face us, nothing but raised hackles and bared fangs. As one, they advanced, coarse barks ringing out like gunshots.

At the slightest twist of her scythe, Hunter gave the signal to charge.

We had them down and were charging the last three demons before we even had to step foot on the pavement. I leapt from car to van to this big block-looking thing, praying to Nemesis that my balance kept. The two empousi hissed and whirled on us, shock and outrage bright as the flames on their faces, and the wolf froze and growled.

Hunter shoved into the air on Anonymous and went flying over my head, landing perfectly on the road on the other side of the demon party. The empousi hesitated.

I smiled and lunged.

One screamed and bolted, oddly out of character. The other fell on me with a hiss. She held no weapons; her sharp claws flashed out and ignited as they came down, and her fangs glistened-

-I dove beneath the strike, hardly lifting my sword as I went. A pile of ash crashed into the road behind me.

By now, the other two wolves were back. They had gone for Hunter. I took the one her scythe wasn't currently burying itself in and tried to push it away – so that it didn't divide us – but then the third was back and magic was inevitable.

Before I could summon anything, I caught Hunter's glaring eye and golden whips had begun to crackle in the air. This close, I could see them work – a slice of magic disappearing into fur, and every piece of flesh it'd touched freezing, dead on the spot, and tearing open as the rest of the creature moved. Once, I saw a wolf break its shoulder against her strike.

It wasn't until the empousa I'd killed attacked again that I wondered where the other had gone.

Crap. The keys.

Hunter was already searching. Her golden eyes gave it away. I followed her nervous glance and there, a hundred feet back towards where Bree defended Brook's perch on the statue from another dozen monsters. Shadows had risen and the road cracked - a few cars had even vanished into a chasm, and three undead warriors were tearing at the demons' left flank. The rogue vampire skirted the edge of the scuffle stealthily.

For a moment, I thought of asking Hunter's permission. Unity between us was somethign we were still working on, despite having both worked so cleanly with Bree before, and she had the same air about her that her father'd had; the unshakable leader one was lucky to be born to follow.

And harsh words don't usually bother me. Furthermore, a bad mood tends to lead to me resenting myself rather than another. But somewhere in me, anger had risen, and I didn't bother even glance at her before I ran off again.

Shadow travel was dangerous, but I had grown better at it as time passed. I used it once more and wove between the cars until I caught up with the empousa. She didn't even bother halt when I appeared before her - she just swerved and ducked between a taxi and a truck.

I followed.

Hunter, for whatever reason, had decided to trust me on my own. Or at least to observe. We raced between cars for the nearest output. Down that road ahead, I could see humans running. Sirens had begun to wail in the distance.

Ahead, the demon tripped. Alarms in my mind joined the police's warnings. Nevertheless, I took the bait and shot forward.

She glanced back at me for the slightest moment, then let her nail rake a flaming scar down a Toyota's door.

It didn't look that deep, but I knew better by now. I dove behind another taxi as the car exploded. The heat felt like it had on Halloween, when Hunter had attempted to 'fix' my hair for the vampire disguise and purposely held the dryer too close to my skin (damn machine). The taxi I was pressed against jumped in shock.

Glass flew past my head. I cursed and ducked.

Somehwere, the demon laughed.

I rolled beneath the taxi, flinching at the pinch of glass shards that pierced my singed sleeves. One raked down my stomach. I held my breath and wriggled until I was sure I wouldn't be seen from outside.

The underbelly of the car was laced with tubes and mechanics and dozens of still-warm metal pieces. Down here, the air was hot and stifling and laced with a tension that said it might be literally electrified at any moment. For a horrible few seconds, I thought I saw the pieces move - a horrifying combination of swings and bangs and clicks and heat - the pipes slammed down, trapping me in a cage - overhead, it whirred, blades churning and gas leaking from somewhere - electricity sparked-

I blinked the nightmare away and shook my head vigorously. The car was turned off; hopefully, it would stay that way. No need to panic.

Slowly, I let out a long breath, and waited. Then color bled into my dark world. I saw Hunter swinging Anonymous and could feel the pulse of the blade, the searing beats of werewolf hearts, feel the arcane brush of the vampire nearby. Hands before me holding a sword lashed out at the empousa until she turned to ash once more. Skeletal hands

I could see and feel, but the once-loyal friend shared no thoughts with me.

_Over here. Corner this stray one,_ I ordered. Moments later I heard the warrior's skeletal feet slamming down on the asphalt nearby.

When I heard the demon hiss in annoyance and could feel her burn through the skeleton, I sild forward into the shadows once more - finally, free of that cursed machine! - and found the gap in buildings that marked the outlet street she had made for. Two relatively small shipping trucks carrying firewood appeared beside me. Ahead, I saw the skeleton (now aflame) grappling with the empousa, and far beyond them, Bree still slicing at her own demons. Brook's arrows were impaled in everything, from monster to armor to car to road.

Beneath my feet, I swear, I could feel Gaea laughing.

I muttered a curse and ambushed the empousa from the side, ripping her from the skeleton's hands and slamming her into the concrete corner of a building. The blow came with a sickening _snap!_

She screamed, broken broze leg twitching like mad. Nails dug into my arms. I grit my teeth and held my sword to her throat. Slowly, my hand reached for her pocket...

And she turned into fire.

It was everywhere. I yelled and jumped back, coughing on smoke, swatting it off my jeans and cuffs. The skeleton clattered a desperate warning.

Then she was solid again, a heavy body on top of mine. Something even hotter than the fire sliced at the skin on the back of my neck.

Outrage flared for just a moment, hardly long enough for me to knock her off with shadows. Then the venom took hold, and the world went calm, and the fire in me died, and quite suddenly I went numb.

She rolled to her feet and smiled at me, a dazzling white thing just perfectly accented by the sharp canines that'd been stained red. Lips of the same crimson framed it elegantly. Her skin was nearly an olive shade and shone amid flowing hair nearly as black as my own. Flames still played at the edges of it.

Something in the back of my mind told me that this was stupid, that it wasn't right. That I didn't care for her. That I'd never wanted her or any girl at all, really. But at that moment, straight down to the curve of her finger as she beckoned, it was too hard to think.

Then I saw her from behind.

Skeletal hands were steady on the sword between her and I. She was beckoning at someone out of my sight, head cocked slightly to the side, flames eating at her hair and skirt. The slender arms were orange with fire. Nails were curved and serrated.

Half in the skeleton's mind, half in mine, I drew my sword and charged.

I could see from both sides as we closed in, as she screamed and sliced with flaming nails at my face, and as two swords became buried in her torso. The demon screamed and lunged furiously at the skeleton. From him, I only saw fire.

My mind scrambled with my numb muscles, trying to force them to move faster, but it was hard. If I looked too closely, I only saw through my eyes again, and the searing venom began to take over again. My body became heavy and the arm the dragon had bitten was throbbing angrily.

No. These thigns had a weakness, I knew it. I just had to figure it out before we locked blades - nails - again.

Well. I've dealt with vampries before, and I've dealt with stuck-up females. This shouldn't be too hard.

To pull her off the skeleton, I spat, "You know why you're so flammable?"

She paused and glanced at me, red eyes flashing.

"'Cause you've got enough hairspray on to pass your hair for wood."

"_Problem?!"_ the demon spat, leaping off the skeleton and standing with feet spread. The broken bronze one wheezed under the stress.

"Not as much as your complexion," I muttered, picking the first thing I couldn't care less about to insult.

She screamed and stomped her foot. "_You _try dealing with acne, you little brat! You couldn't manage a skintone _half _this even!"

"I couldn't manage to ever predict I'd have this conversation."

She wailed and flinched. The lava venom in my throat gave way to a more natural fire. The haze on my mind began to clear - the teeth turned from admirable to forbidding, the eyes from glorious to questionable.

_Keep going, _a desperate part of me urged.

Well, what upsets a girl? How should I know? It wasn't like Bree or her sisters were your typical schoolgirl chicks.

"Uh... You smell bad," I said intelligently.

That did it. She gave another tortured screech and lunged for my throat.

As nails dug into my shoulders and my sword shoved her aside, I remembered - empousa could be wounded by words.

Complete and utter fury rose in my throat. The dirty succubus had _bit _me. With the venom countered by insults, I was free to feel all the outrage I wished.

And all the desperation.

Sounds had become real again - in the distance, I heard Bree yelling, and Hunter shouting insults at her own opponents. The werewolves were snarling and the noise Moon's pack made to counter it wasn't that reassuring.

I rolled away from her, shadow traveling to be sure I was fast enough, and lashed out with magic as Bree'd taught me not long ago. Shadows sliced through her left shoulder. She stared in shock at the arm now flopping furiously around at her feet.

"Break a nail?" I sneered, for the life of me trying to pretend that talking during a battle of natural.

Apparently, it was to her. She wailed again and said, "Yes, I did! So what?"

But despite all the pain she left me to revel in for that sentence, I was done. Sick and tired. The skeleton ambushed one last time from the side as I ran Mνήμη through her center. Wide, astonished red eyes met mine.

I ripped my sword out from the side, watching her crumble. Ash leaked from the wounds. She gasped and spasmed, but it was slow; the ash moved, stopped pouring, began to solidify once more.

I pinned her to the concrete with Mνήμη though her shoulder and dug into her pockets for the keys.

She laughed, a horrid, gurgling sound. I ignored her.

"Wrong... one," she rasped.

Like I was going to believe that. I raised an eyebrow and held up my free hand, displaying all five unbroken nails, and the last of her disappeared into cinders.

The skeleton clacked its jaw happily and helped me sift through the mess. Her last words echoed like a bullhorn through my ears when it began to take too long. My numb fingers flew through the ash once, twice, three times, until it lay scattered around us like a thin sheet of paper.

No keys.

_Wrong one, _I heard her laugh, and cussed loudly.

My head snapped up, desperately searching the street. Anonymous was whirling viciously at a demon I couldn't see. Bree had begun to struggle, because she wasn't just against seven; they kept coming back, and she faced an eternity of them. Brook had vanished from her post on the statue. In the street, among the cars, two writhing packs of wolves were ripping at one another's throats.

It was by luck that I saw it. So used to watching for moving shadows, I caught the scrawny black shape slinking between cars hundreds of yards down the road.

My heart fell to the concrete. I tried, I stumbled to my feet and held up my sword, but my numb muscles were stiff. Even the shadows were slow. The world had begun to tilt dangerously.

Then from the sky fell a bird.

For a moment, I thought that perhaps another aftereffect of an empousa bite might be hallucinations. But no; my mind was clear and that particular ail broken. What I saw was clear. The falcon slammed into the little black werewolf with so much force, they went skidding onto the sidewalk. Silver claws flashed out and left red streaks across the dog's eyes. It howled and flailed miserably.

The falcon lashed at its muzzle once more before taking to the sky once more, narrowly dodging its desperate paws as it went.

I gulped at the air and shook my head. I had to get it together. Just a few minutes of calm, that's all I needed. Then I'd be fine. I could fight the venom, I was sure.

Eventually, I managed to find my feet again and jogged between the cars to my sister's side.

Overhead, the falcon landed on the statue. Wings reached out and morphed into arms. Silver feathers fell on the ground at the statue's base. Brook stuffed the keys into her pocket and reached behind her, another arrow ready and notched in a heartbeat.

Mνήμη remembered the essential for me. I felt Bree at my right and just knew to fall in with her, knew to move forward as she moved back, knew to turn at all the right moments, to raise my sword just in time. The monsters were nothing but fierce glows of moonlight on claws and the burning blazes of infernal fires.

Twice, I saw her skeleton friends scattering dust.

In the street, wolves screamed and howled. One side had begun to falter.

Three minutes later, Hunter appeared next to us. And then Moon. Then Night.

I saw Fern crash into a werewolf then, all furious fangs and dangerous claws. A silver arrow appeared in her opponent's head. I turned, looking for the next, then turned again to find they were gone.

Just wolf bodies and the ash that'd begun to float up into the wind.

Brook huffed and leapt down from the statue, rolling to her feet. The wolf pack barked happily and gathered around her. She and Moon both tossed their heads back and howled, loud and bold and untouchable, at the gause-covered moon overhead.

A shimmer passed over them. I blinked, but the illusion didn't vanish. It clung to me like cobwebs. The visual migraine had returned. Or perhaps it'd never left, and a fight was so familiar to me by now that it couldn't have bothered me even if it'd been accompanied by its headache.

Something solid but shrouded told me that the latter was true. Yes, yes, death and demons and fear for life and the knowledge that no one was coming to help were very familiar to me. As close as the clothes I wore.

A hand on my shoulder nearly made me jump. Bree gave me a concerned look from behind the imagined bevel, dark eyes unreadable. Pained. For a moment, fear raced though me - I reached out and laid a hand on her own right shoulder, ever gentle, and searched for her own wounds.

Luckily, the worst I could find was a slice across her arm. She was alright.

I didn't even have to ask for Brook and Hunter. I heard them talking and felt the last of the adrenaline fade. We'd survived one more fight.

_To do nothing but live 'til the next, of course._

I shook my head at myself. Something told me that, in a better mood, I wouldn't believe that. But I did now.

oOo

Shades Guy came jogging up to us real fast.

"Hey! You got my keys!" he yelled, smiling stupidly. He barged past Nico and I and stopped before Brook with his hands held out. "My keys!"

She gave him a disapproving look and dropped them into his hands. It held two lonely keys, a plastic music note, and a chain of linked omega symbols.

"Yeah," Nico spat, flicking the hair out of his eyes to glare angrily. "We got your keys."

"Thank ya!" the boy said, giving a mock salute and casting us a winning smile. "Very much! FOR MY KEYS!"

I flinched. "Geez. Don't have to yell."

"I MUST REPAY YOU GUYS FOR SAVING MY KEYS!" he repeated slowly, glancing up at the sky. "IMAGINE WHAT MIGHT'VE HAPPENED IF THE MONSTERS GOT AWAY WITH THEM! IT'S ONLY CUSTOMARY THAT I REWARD YOU!"

Hunter narrowed her eyes.

"PITY! I MUST NOT RETURN HOME UNTIL YOU'RE REPAID, UNLESS I WANT SOMETHING **BAD **TO HAPPEN!"

Overhead, thunder rolled.

The boy gave the moon a satisfied nod and look at us. His smile had vanished, and he shuffled nervously, eyes tight with panic. Quite suddenly, he didn't seem so young. "By the gods, y'all are screwed."

"We noticed," Hunter growled. "Who are you?"

"A-" Nico began.

The boy held up a hand. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred. I don't have much time here, so listen closely." The words tumbled out of him like wild birds from cages. "What you're looking for isn't here. You're being played."

"By who?" Hunter demanded, bristling.

Fred looked at his shoes solemnly, and in that moment, it felt like a lead blanket had been draped over us all. He removed his shades and looked at her with bright golden eyes.

I sucked in a breath.

"I can't tell you that. Nor can I reach you through dreams. And my view has been so clouded recently. Someone..." For a moment, he seemed to choke. "Someone else is interfering with my sight. And my mind. I can't even compose a lymeric. But something really, realy bad joo-joo-squat is going to go down in Seattle. Soon. That's all I can understand."

"Seattle?" Brook breathed.

I met Hunter's shocked eyes. Seattle? The place where we'd last been human?

"Seattle," Fred agreed with a shaking voice. He cast a paranoid glance over his shoulder. Cops had begun to flood the street now, but for some reason, they were blind to us. "It's all I know for sure. I don't-"

To my utter shock, he just vanished.

Nico cried out in panic and froze, waiting. A moment later, Fred appeared again.

"-calling me back." The panic in his eyes blazed like the empousi had. "I can't stay longer. Just... Seattle. That's all I can do to help. I'm sorry..."

He vanished again, first becoming mute and then flickering. For five alarming moments, he was completely gone.

Then he became real again, staring at us the way a man stares at graves.

Hunter narrowed her eyes. "And you expect us to go risk our lives to stop _bad joo-joo-squat_ because a complete stranger asked us to?"

His voice jumped in and out, eyes wide and mouth moving too fast. His form was a jumping transparent. "I - not a stranger - wish - I can't-"

One last time, he solidified, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to appear. "The future isn't set in stone. But no matter which way I look, bad joo-joo-squat isn't stopped. I fear you won't-"

And then he was gone.

We waited in the stifling silence, but with fires burning in the street and sweat coming off us in waves, the world had fallen deathly cold.

Brook swallowed thickly. "So, who was that, Nico?"

"Apollo," he said miserably.

"You mean to tell me that Apollo risked the keys to the sun, let The Patron's enemies attack us, broke Zeus's orders, and escaped Olympus just to tell us there's _bad joo-joo-squat _in Seattle?"

"He came out of nowhere," I argued. The golden eyes danced before me again. "You can't be serious."

But his eyes met mine, naught but grim obsidian, and obsidian is too solid to fly high. It is down-to-earth and does not budge, does not joke. Especially exhausted obsidian.

"Well," Hunter muttered. "Let's bail before we discuss, guys. Those cops are giving me the bad joo-joo-squat vibes."

oOo

**Nyx: So yeah. Worked on it in intervals again. The end was rushed.**

**And we've already discussed Nico's sexuality. No comments, please. This was written long before there was any confirmation on it.**

**Nic: Bad joo-joo-squat?**

**Nyx: Hey, I toned down his dialect to make him depressed, but he still had to say **_**something...**_

**Nic: Please continue to review, guys! We like hearing what you have to say. Happy rest-of-weekend.**


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